A/N

Okay guys. I am SO. SO. SO. grateful for your reviews. As of now I have made a schedule for when I'm going to update. However this might not always be the case, because I MAY be busy. (Although I try to write ahead of time.)

DauntlessClove, I've decided. It's going to be Clato. Whee! :)

autumn-robin, Thanks for the review! And yeah, Clato F.T.W.! I love Clato. Also, this book is going to turn out to be very… very interesting…

And I mean, VERY interesting.

As for the update schedule, I'm going to update on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Maybe sometimes a bit earlier, but whatevs! :)


CHAPTER TWO: HUNT


We don't talk. But our actions speak for themselves. Occasional glances. Short, yet so meaningful. There are so many questions racing through my head, but this is no place to ask them. Not in the arena, the place of death. Where nothing's private. Where nothing means anything. Where it's your survival or nothing.

Where I have transformed from Clove, deadly, to murderer. There's a difference, of course, though the Districts oh-so-unfairly think that we're the lowest beings on Earth.

It wasn't like I wasn't innocent before, but this is a whole new level of deadly, of mean, of powerful. I didn't realize it before, but all of those children that I killed had families waiting for them. They're probably all in mourning now, crying over the too-soon deaths, and promising to avenge them.

I shudder at the thought. I'm a murderer, now.

You don't think like that in the District. What you think is, I'm going to win this thing, and I'm going to bring glory and honor to my district. You don't work out the complications. But when you're thrust into the Arena, you start realizing that what you've done…

I brush the thoughts off my mind. Cato, I think, he's been acting strange lately. What's gotten into him? "Cato," I say slowly. Carefully. We've been communicating a little like this. You can't reveal too much or too little. We understand each other. But the others never will.

"Thanks for saving me out there, yeah? I really appreciate it." It's followed by the raise of an eyebrow and a slight nod. It's a question: Why did you do it? Why not just leave me out to die? You were injured. Thresh or Katniss would've killed you, no doubt.

"Well, I figure that…," he's having a hard time wording it. He's never been a public speaker, Cato. That's more of me. It's not like he's not smart, because he is smart. He's one of the smartest people I know, in some kind of weird way. He's a genius when it comes to combat. But he's no Lover-boy.

"I think that it'd be better with the two of us," he concludes. "We're good fighters, y'know?" It's an answer.

Question and answer, that's how it goes. And I'm baffled, absolutely stunned, by his – he cares for me? He's gotten the hidden meaning, obviously, by the way halfway into answering realization seemed to dawn on him. I can see it. I'm trained to read people. Understand them: are they a swordsman, or a thinker? An archer? A knife-thrower? Can they climb trees?

But also more subtle things. Do they fear you? Are they calm? Are they deadly or dangerous? Are they hiding things? They teach us these little things, in the District. "Every little thing," they say, "takes you one more step to victory, You're obviously better than the wimps from the other districts."

I didn't think me and Cato were anything. I didn't think we were anything other than "hunting" partners, after all. I didn't think that there was room for friendship, or (as Lover-boy and Fire-girl have demonstrated) love inside these cruel games.

"Okay," I say. "Like I said before… thanks, it really means a lot to me. I could've died there. It was dangerous, you know. You didn't have to go. You could've – should've – just left me and hope you'd win for the district pride."

I realize that by now I'm doing something that's a mixture of babbling, hinting, and scolding Cato all in one. My hard, no-nonsense, deadly expression quickly softens into something that's more heartfelt and soft. Just for a moment, before I can continue masking it and pretend that I'm just your average deadly-monster Career.

After all, there's no use for sentiment in these games.

"Let's go back to base, yeah?" I say, breaking the, by now, not-so-odd silence. It seems wrong, but we've been ignoring the other person for hours now. Well, more like for days now. "I mean, that's what we're doing, but… wait, no, where are we?"

"I don't know," he says truthfully. "I was following you."

"I can't trust you for long, can I?" I say with a smile. He makes a mock-hurt face. "Yeah, yeah, I'm so sorry. You're a big boy, you can follow a map, can't you?"

"Yeah, well, you're a big girl," Cato argues back, "surely you can follow a map, too."

We're referring to this crude drawing of the arena that I've made. It's on a leaf, and it's not very accurate, but we've explored almost all of the arena so we're very lucky that at least we have a map. The arena can be a deadly place if you don't know where you are or what you're doing. Even deadlier than before, in fact, which is in truth quite hard.

"Oh, fine," I say finally. "I guess we can't just keep on randomly wandering around, anyway. We're at the river, I think. Might as well fill up our water, yeah?"

"Okay, whatever," Cato says. "Think Lover-boy's still here? Well, around here, at least? I left him here, you know, last time. It's highly possible…"

He trails off. I know what he's thinking, but Katniss is a smart girl. She wouldn't just hide Peeta here, would she? Well, she could've, but I doubt she did. There isn't that much space to hide here, anyway. Unless they're up in a tree, which in that case, I wouldn't be able to go there anyway.

"It's better not to risk it," I say. "Not without you healing that arm wound, anyway. She's got a bow, remember? You're no match for her accuracy. Neither am I. Besides, she'd be able to scurry up a tree, way before a knife could reach her. Or a sword, for that matter. Besides," I reason, "wouldn't we have seen her already?"

"Unless there's like… a cave here, or something," he says, scrunching his nose.

"Come on, just forget it already. Katniss would've moved locations by now," I say with more confidence than is inside me. "So drop it. And let's just fill up our water. That's kind of what we're still here for, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess," he says quietly. "But still, I think they're over –"

"Drop. It," I say with, again, more courage and venom than I thought possible to muster at a time like this. But I realize: it could, very well, be true. This could be the final battle. Well, that'd be quick.

"Okay, then," he says, raising his arms as if saying, 'I surrender!'. I love this about him, how he jokes around while still managing to be alert and serious. He never misses a beat.

After filling up a bottle of water and purifying it with iodine, killing and skinning lunch (and then recieving some bread and butter, ironically, right after I finish) we decide to head out back to our base. No doubt that it'll take hours from here, but we might as well get to an area that we know is safe.

It's not said, but we're both very wary. More than I know we should be. Or maybe not, considering that this is the arena and there is danger all around us. But what if it's true, that Katniss and Peeta are hiding out here? They'd be ready for action, considering that what was in the pack was undoubtedly medicine for Peeta's leg. By now he should be healed right up – I tried some of that stuff once, when I had cut open my arm accidentally during training.

It heals fast. Within an hour or two. You get some of that stuff, you don't need anything else. I'd joke and say it's magic, except none of us are in any mood for joking.

We leave as soon as we could, greedily drink as much water as we please (we have a whole lake of it to waste, and we're not going to take it for granted anytime soon!) before we decide that, yes, it's best if we make out way out.

"It's getting late, anyway," I mutter, more to myself than to Cato or anyone else (the birds, maybe? I'm getting crazy, I decide) but he hears me anyway.

"Yeah, it is," he says nonchalantly. "You know what? I think– hmm–" His eyes dart to the sky. "I don't know. Maybe, we could go hunting. Maybe… no, it's a stupid idea. We can't, Firl-girl will kill us."

"No, she won't!" I say.

Cato stares at me, expectantly. With a little "sass", if you'd call it – a raised eyebrow, a hand on his hip, a tapping foot. Gosh, if I told Cato that I just called him sassy, he'd wring my neck! I laugh quietly to myself, and am certain that right now the whole of Panem thinks I'm crazy (including Cato).

"Okay, you're laughing to yourself. Great," he says under his breath – a little too loudly. "I think Clove's gone crazy."

I'm about to protest and say that, No, I am not crazy, and in fact open my mouth to do so, when Cato bursts out laughing. "What?" I demand with a little too much anger. "What's funny? Me?" It's supposed to come out as a threat more than a question, but Cato just nods.

"You're so…"

"What is it? What am I?" I practically screech. Despite my outburst, all Cato does is laugh even louder before clapping his hand over his mouth and realizing that this is no time and place for loud laughter, that we'd probably alerted anybody within a 30-meter radius. This was no place to be reckless and happy.

"It's nothing. I was just teasing you, don't you realize that?" he asks. I feel myself blush out of embarassment. Yeah… right. Teasing. It's a foreign concept, seeing that I've never even really had a friend before, and this is all new to me.

"Um… yeah, sure," I say, my voice becoming a small squeak. "Nevermind, then. Anyway, Fire-girl never goes hunting, it has to be said. She doesn't have the guts."

Although I guess I'm exaggerating – Katniss Everdeen is one of the bravest people I've ever met – it is true that she wouldn't go hunting. She's killed, but only for her survival and defense. She wouldn't just purposely kill, for nothing, at least. She's a survivor, but she isn't ruthless.

"I don't know, but why not?" We're giddy, almost. Giddy teenagers that are going out late at night to sneak out into a movie. Or, in this case, giddy teenagers that are going out late at night to sneak out to kill people. Or at least to try to kill people. Sounds lovely, I guess.

"I don't know," I say. We kind of just stare at eachother for a while. Cato's eyes are so… blue, I think. You'd think that he was related to Glimmer. I'm about to share a few choice words about Glimmer when Cato snaps out of it.

"So, what're you waiting for? Let's go," he says with forced enthusiasm. I give him my best sideways smile, eyes narrowed.

I'm about to say "Yeah, sure, let's go!" or something along those lines when something occurs to me. "Wait a minute, Cato," I say, "What about the bag? The pack? What's in there? And Thresh's," I add, not even realizing before now that we've managed to snag Thresh's pack, meaning that we've probably just been given a very valuable item.

"I forgot about that," Cato says, scratching his neck. "I wonder what it is. We need something, I guess. But what is it? Medicine maybe?"

"Nah," I say. I don't think that's it, at least. "Your arm's bad, but nothing serious." It's true. I've already wrapped it up in thick guaze and given him fever pills. The bleeding has stopped and it's already healing nicely. It's nothing for him to worry about. He won't be able to use a sword for maybe a week or two, but he won't die.

"Let's open Thresh's pack, first," Cato declares. "I want to see what he needed, just for the sake of it. Besides," he gives me a grin, "leave the best for last, eh?"

I nod and don't hesitate to practically rip open Thresh's pack. In it is a, strangely, jacket, shirt, pants, and pair of socks. "What'ya think these are for?" I say, surveying them. They look like the regular given clothes that you get before you enter the tube, but on second inspection, they're thicker. I put on the jacket, alone, but it's only dusk and I'm sweating.

"They're to keep you warm," I declare. "This is thicker. And much, much warmer. He must've not had a sleeping bag," I say with a shrug. "We could use this. Your turn."

He opens his pack hesitantly. His fingers twitch, and I'm sure he's eager to know what he needs. He doesn't know it himself. What could it be? I think for a moment, but I can't find anything.

He gasps.

"What is it?" I say nonchalantly. Inside I'm a nervous wreck. What will it be? Obviously, this will likely be something amazing and important. But what could we possibly need so badly that we'd die without it?

"Body armour," he says. "This would protect against an arrow."

We exchange glances. The message is simple: Katniss Everdeen can't do anything against us in these suits. We're invincible, almost. I smirk. "Let's go hunting, Cato."


All right! So, guys, how'd you like it? Usually my entries are going to be around a day/night cycle, but this was a little bit longer. How do you like how the story's turning out?

Anyway, yeah. Like, review, fav, etc.!