Sitting Under The Sun
CHAPTER TWO
Cato sighs as he hears Clove climb into his sleeping bag inside the tent.
"Clove, do you want any of this squirrel or not then?"
Clove says nothing.
"Clove? Look I'm really sorry Clove, please, I really am so sorry."
There's a rustling noise as Clove sits up inside her sleeping bag. "Are you really?"
Cato smiles slightly. "Yeah. Really."
Clove unzips the entrance of the tent and crawls out. She sits in front of the tent, facing Cato. "I don't yet forgive you but you're the closest I have to a friend and a piece of home in the arena so I'll move on for now."
Cato nods, "You're my friend, too... How's your arm?"
Clove sighs. A few days earlier she had been hunting down food and after seeing a deer, took a risk. She climbed up into a tree to attack the animal from above but fell and landed on the knife that she had been holding. She had a bad wound which Cato had to wrap to stop blood pouring from it. It isn't bleeding any more but the wound is still open and showing signs of being infected.
"It hurts but I'm still alive." Clove answers.
Cato nods. "Good."
There's a comfortable silence for a minute or so before a loud blast of a fanfare fills the arena, sending birds flying in all directions.
"Attention, tributes, attention." The voice of Claudius Templesmith booms around the woods. "There is to be a feast held for all remaining tributes." Cato looks interested but Claudius' next sentence gives away that some tributes are already planning on not going. "Now hold on. Some of you may already be declining my invitation. But this is no ordinary feast. Each of you needs something desperately." He drags the word 'desperately' as if trying to convince some just how much they need to be at the feast. "Each of you will find that something in a backpack, marked with your district number at the Cornucopia at dawn. Think hard about refusing to show up. For some of you, this will be your last chance."
There's an eery silence and Claudius' microphone clicks off, sending a quick screech through the trees.
Cato's neck snaps round to Clove.
"Your medicine."
Clove furrows her brow, "What? I'm not ill."
Cato grabs her arm and quickly unwraps her bandage. The wound is a dark purple-black colour, and no scab is forming, meaning germs are probably collecting. The cut must be at least 5cm wide at the worst part.
"Oh god..." Clove mutters, she hasn't seen the wound in about 12 hours, and it's looking a lot worse now that time has passed.
Cato sighs "I'll go to the feast and get it for you, come on, this must be infected."
"What? No! You're not going for me."
"Oh so you're gonna go get it? Wake up, Clove."
Clove's eyes flashed, "if you get the medicine, I'm not using it. I'm only using it if I got it for myself."
Cato shakes his head, "we're allies, it's my job to get it for you."
"No. I'm getting it for myself."
Cato's hard expression disappears. "But what if something happens to you?" He whispers.
Clove is confused. 'Is he seriously worried?' she thinks. 'He can't be, he doesn't care about me, he's only stuck with me because our mentor told us to defend each other'.
She says nothing out loud so Cato inhales deeply, "I don't want anything to happen to you."
"Why? Because we're allies?"
Cato shakes his head, "No, because we're friends... We are friends, right?"
Clove smiles, "Yeah we are friends, but we won't be if you don't let me get the medicine myself."
Cato's jaw tenses and he looks out into the trees for a second before muttering, "alright, you can get it... But promise you'll stay safe."
Clove smiles and looks down into her lap. "Promise..."
She looks up and, before she can stop herself, has her arms wrapped round Cato's shoulders, embracing him in a huge hug. After a second he holds her too and they stay in each other's arms for a minute before Cato mutters into her hair, "the squirrel is getting burnt."
She leans back and nods, "mmm, yeah I'm hungry." Clove takes the meat off the fire and puts it on the plastic sheet from the only remaining backpack they have after their supplies were blown up.
They eat quickly as the sun has almost disappeared and no one wants to be out during the dark. They put their fire out and climb into the tent.
They've been in their sleeping bags for just a few minutes when Cato whispers, "Clove?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you, um, are you cold?"
Clove turns to face him, but can only see his eyes and teeth in the moonlight shining through the thin tent material, "yeah I am, why?"
"I'm freezing." Cato mutters.
"Then come here." Clove says.
Cato shuffles along the tent floor until his sleeping bag is right next to Clove's. "Better?" She asks after a minute.
"I'm still cold." He answers.
Clove giggles quietly, "oh, come on then."
She unzips her sleeping bag and Cato climbs in.
"Thanks." He whispers. "You're sleeping bag smells of you. You smell nice."
"Thanks..."
"Night, Clove, sleep well." Cato whispers into her ear. He kisses her cheek and finds her hand. He links their fingers together, giving her a sense of security and peacefulness.
"Goodnight, Cato. Let's hope tomorrow will be kinder..."