Summary: He promises himself that when the time comes, he'll kill her.
Chapter 1: Beginnings Part 1
2 years earlier
Katiss Everdeen ties her unruly hair into a loose bun as she approaches the barbed-wire fence separating the meadow from the woods. She stops for a moment and listens carefully for the electrical hum of the fence. When she hears nothing but the sound of wind passing through the trees, she lifts the edge of the fence up from the loose ground and throws her game bag to the other side before flattening herself on her belly and sliding through. Katniss brushes the dirt from her jacket and throws the leather pack over the shoulder. She casts a look at the meadow through the fence before venturing into the quiet woods.
After retrieving her bow and sheath of arrows that she had hidden in a hollow log years ago, Katniss heads towards the lake where she knows there is prey. It's been a while since she's hunted alone, and she misses Gale's comforting presence. She almost expects him to peek his head out from behind a bush with a dead squirrel in hand, but since he fractured his ankle in a minor mine explosion last week, she now hunts for two families.
Katniss is retrieving an arrow from the sheath slung over her shoulder when she hears the snap of a twig to her left. She turns to catch a glimpse of an ashy rabbit racing through the fallen leaves. She raises her bow and traces the shadow of her prey. When she has a clear shot, she releases, exhaling the breath she had been holding in. Katniss stands motionless for barely a second before a dull thud of metal to flesh tells her that her target is down. She opens the flap of her bag, ready to collect her kill. Right in the eye. Her lips twitch with the ghost of a smile as she pulls the arrow from the rodent's limp body.
"Sorry, little guy," she whispers to no one in particular.
Katniss throws the pack over her shoulders again and heads deeper into the woods. When the view of the lake comes into view, she removes the water skin from the bag and brings it to her cracked lips. She sighs in relief as the cool liquid trickles down her dry throat. She's just returned to the water skin to her pouch when a sound from near the shore stops her.
She can't quite place the sound. It almost sounds like whipping, the sound of metal slicing through the air. She knows she should stay away, but Gale does always say that she's as curious as a cat. She secures her bow over her shoulder and walks to a tree that overlooks the ledge above the shore. She grabs hold of a branch and begins to climb. She's ten feet up when she sees him.
A boy stands where the water greets the earth. He stands with his back to Katniss with a broad, flat sword held out to his side. He stands so still, so motionless that if he hadn't been standing, Katniss would have thought him to be dead. He has trimmed ashy blond hair and a muscular build. The first thought in Katniss' mind is that he looks too well fed to be from District 12. She remains quiet, watching the boy in silent meditation.
Before she releases a gasp of air, he's moving. He swings the sword at the invisible enemy, emitting soft grunting noises as he slices his blade through the air. He ducks, evading a blow, and raises both arms behind his head, lunging forward.
Katniss can't help but think he looks almost graceful with the sword. She lowers her foot to the branch below, deciding that however graceful his swordsmanship is, she doesn't want to come into contact with it. And that's when the branch snaps.
She doesn't hear the sound of wood snapping until she feels herself falling forward. A flock of birds in a nearby tree takes off, fleeing from the sound. She falls ten feet from the tree and hits the ledge with a hard thud. She tries to grab at the rocks embedded in the ground, but the runny earth pulls her downhill. She continues sliding down the muddy hill and doesn't come to a stop until she finds her face buried in damp sand. She pushes her sore body off of the ground and becomes painfully aware of the effects of a concussion.
Katniss raises a bruised hand to her forehead and steadies her breathing. She flinches as the light enters her eyes, but before she has a chance to regain her composure, she remembers the boy. The boy with the sword. She springs into a standing position with an arrow in hand, ready to strike. The boy with the sword is approaching her, only she notices that he doesn't carry the sword with him. She holds the arrow out as if signaling for him to back off. He walks forward, his palms held up in surrender.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he says. He holds an outstretched arm to her, offering support. "I have some bandages in my sack, and it looks like you'll need them." He gestures to the bloody gash on her forehead where she had slammed into a stump.
Katniss feels the blood dripping down her brow and studies his face suspiciously, searching for a threat. She finds none, but knows better. She's about to back away when a wave of dizziness makes her knees wobble. She takes his arm before she collapses into a vulnerable heap on the ground but her eyes still watch his every move. He sits her down near the water's edge and she can see that his sword is some distance away. She remains in silence as she studies him dipping a piece of cloth into the clear water and wiping the dried blood from her face.
He can't be much older than her. He fights like a man, but has the face of a young boy. Katniss wants to ask who he is, which District he's from, why he's in the woods, but no words escape her lips. She already feels that she owes him for his hospitality; she doesn't want to ask for more.
"So that was quite some height you fell, yeah?" the boy says with a chuckle. He wraps the gauze around her forehead, covering the wound.
"Yeah," Katniss replies, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I was hunting." She glances at the now broken bow lying on the sand. .
"Hunting," he repeats, securing the bandage. "Are you supposed to be out here?"
Katniss' eyes narrow cautiously and her grip on the arrow tightens. She shouldn't have told him that. She mentally cusses at herself for trusting an armed stranger. If this boy reports her to the peacekeepers, her whole family wil—
"Woah, relax," the blond boy says, noticing her tense up. "I saw the barbed fences and they sort of screamed 'KEEP OUT'."
Katniss doesn't release her hold on the arrow. "You're not from here," she states.
"No," he says. "I'm from District 2." He pulls out a water skin from his pack and raises it to his mouth.
"Why are you here? I thought interdistrict travelling was prohibited unless— Are you with the victory tour?" Katniss asks.
"I'm a career tribute," he says almost emotionlessly. "My mentor thought that tagging along with the victors this year would get me worked up for the games." He shrugs and starts tracing patterns in the sand with his finger.
A career tribute. Katniss has ever only heard of them.
"Why?" she finds the question escaping before she can stop herself.
"What do you mean 'why'?"
"Why are you a career?"
His stare lingers on her for a lingering moment, hesitating. "I don't know." His shoulders drop and he runs a hand over the sand, erasing what he had drawn. "I've been training for the games since I can remember. I was born for this. If I don't win, I'm nothing," he lifts his head to meet her gaze.
Trained to kill, trained to die. Katniss wonders how a person could condemn a child to such a fate. They sit in silence, watching the motion of the water lapping at the soft earth and then receding.
"I don't believe that," Katniss whispers, and she almost doesn't know why she says it.
The boy's face contorts into an expression of confusion because he lets out a chuckle of disbelief. "You don't know anything about me," he says.
"I don't," she agrees. "But if anyone can devote their whole person, their whole life to one goal, they must be of some worth."
He stares at her in silence, thinking, wondering. Her words surprise him. He has been bred for this. Since he could stand on his own two feet, he has been training for the year he turned 18. The year he would enter the arena. His year. He was taught to have only one thought, one goal: To survive. To win. To bring glory to his district. He has never known anything else.
"I'm Cato." He holds out his hand. Maybe it's time learn.
Katniss smiles and clasps his hand in hers. "Katniss," she says.
What do you think? Should I continue?