Her breathing was just the tiniest bit laboured as she chased her prey. There! A quick flick of her wrist and a flash so quick that you would have thought you imagined it. An easy grin came to her as she followed up the dull thunk and stood over the prey. A small girl, just old enough to enter the games, lay sobbing at her feet. Snot, sweat and blood were streaked across her face and upper body. The hilt stuck out her side; had it not been there the blade would probably have buried itself in her flesh with no way of removing it.
Her thin fingers pushed the girl's face up towards her, making their eyes meet. She will be the last thing the girl sees before she dies. Clove laughs. Her eyes are alight with the thrill of the chase, and the kill. She grabs the hilt of the throwing blade, dragging it across the girl's stomach and opening her intestines. They slip through the slit in a warm heap and lay for the girl to see. Her eyes go wide before fluttering shut as she dies from shock in a pool of her own blood. Clove just smirks and pulls at the hilt so it comes out with a slick sucking sound.
The other careers have been watching and laughing and joking around about the girl's death - all except Peeta, who looked like he was about to be sick.
"Can't you handle a little blood, Loverboy? Better get used to it soon or we might find that maybe you aren't so… beneficial after all," she grinned, holding the blade dangerously close to the uncomfortable face he was pulling.
"Very nice Clove," Cato laughed as he placed an arm around her shoulders good naturedly as he pulled her away from Peeta. "Remember we need him to find the girl," he breathed into her ear, making her shiver.
"A little fear won't hurt," she said flippantly, grinning at the two boys again as she turned away to wipe the blood coated blade on the grass.
"Let's move off now shall we?" Cato called to everyone just as the cannon boomed overhead.
Without waiting for an answer he started moving off, sword grasped comfortably in hand. Clove was quick to catch up, walking easily next to his long strides even though hers was only about two thirds of his. They made a good couple, she thought, the District 2 Careers. It was a pity there could only be one victor. If she were a normal person, someone not from the most lethal district, perhaps she might have wondered what their lives would have been like if there wasn't such a thing as the Hunger Games; but she wasn't, and like most other District 2 members, she was borderline psychopathic, if not actually so, so there was no use in thinking about it.
The group joked around a lot, although they didn't get too loud in case they scared any tributes away before they saw them. The thrill was in the chase, and the chase could only happen if they found a prey. But what was the rush? Let them make the first move, the first mistake. That's when the careers will strike and the chase will be the highest rush you could ever get; and the bloodier the better. After all this was the Hunger Games, and everyone was hungry for blood.