CupcakeSprinkles14- Thanks! I knew I needed to give Cato a backstory. Hopefully it does him justice. How's this for a quick update? lol.
SakuraDrops141- Thank you for the kind words. I think I'll alternate between POV's in the future so we can get more of a look inside Cato's mind.
MangoMagic17- Hello! You always appreciate the chapters with more character development :) I like that Cato and Clove had a strong friendship. I think it can serve as an anchor for Cato to look back on and let him know it's okay to get close to people.
Cato's POV
My eyes flutter open to the sound of mockingjays. It's bright outside. Have I been asleep for mere minutes or a whole day? I strain to pull myself up from the cold earth and realize that I must have been lying there for quite some time. My muscles ache madly, pleading with me to rest just a bit more.
"Stop it!" I order my body. "I've always pushed you to the limit. This time should be no different. You can take it."
"Who the fuck are you talking to?" a strange voice asks from behind me. I whip my head around to see a boy my age sitting by a tree with his knees pulled up to his chest. His chocolate brown hair is combed neatly to the side and he's looking at me with intrigue and confusion. I don't know this boy so I quickly stand and draw my sword.
"Calm the fuck down," he dismisses. "If I was planning on doing you harm, I would have done it while you were passed out. Duh, brainless."
"Shut the fuck up!" I bark back. No one talks to me like that, except for Clove. And now I'll never hear or see her again. "Who do you think you are?" I hiss at him.
"Temper, temper," he chides while waving his finger at me. I'm two seconds away from cutting that finger off. Fortunately for him, he digresses. "Well, I 'think' my name is Marvel and I 'think' I live in district 1. Does that answer your question?"
He's definitely a smartass but at least he did give me a piece of useful information. "I'm in 1?"
"Just outside of it, yes," he confirms. "These woods here surround our district. I was on my way to the river to wash up when I stumbled upon you; literally. You might have a bruise the shape of a Marvel-sized footprint on your leg later. My bad. Anywho, I decided it was best to stay here to make sure you didn't get eaten by wolves or something."
"Well, I'm fine now so you can go."
"Not so fast, big boy," Marvel declares as he quickly scrambles to his feet. "I can't just find a stranger passed out in the woods and not get to know his story. What's your name? Where are you from? What are you doing here? Why-"
I turn and brusquely walk away from him, done with him and this entire conversation, not caring to answer any of his questions because, frankly, it's none of his damn business. My mind is still reeling from the metaphorical rug that was just pulled out from under my feet only a day ago.
"Don't go! Please! I can help you!" He pleads, following me. Why is he so desperate for me to stay?
"And just why would you help me?" I challenge. "You don't even know me."
"I would know you if you'd let me," Marvel replies. "Now come on. What's your name?"
I stare at him for a while, trying to read his intentions. Strangely enough, his intentions seem pure.
"My name is Cato," I sigh as I give in. "From 2."
"I assumed you came from 2," he grins. "You are classic district 2."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I scoff in defense. If he's about to insult my people, the people who were just burned alive, then he's about to breathe his last breath.
"Relax. What I meant to say is that you're what I've heard district 2 to be. Yes, you're temperamental and aggressive like they say people from 2 are, but they also speak of 2 as strong and fearless. Physical specimens of great power; a true force to be reckoned with. I can see that great strength in you."
I'd normally take such words as a compliment, but they somehow manage to cut me deep. "Well, get a good look then, cuz I'm the last of 'the great power.'"
Marvel seems confused by my statement. "What are you saying, Cato? What happened to district 2?"
"It's gone," I say as a matter-of-fact, "burned with everybody in it. Why do you think I'm here near your measly district 1? It's cuz I've got nowhere else to go."
This boy, Marvel, just looks at me with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. He seems genuinely affected by what I'm telling him. "Holy shit, man. How did it happen?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Try me. You'd be surprised."
Just a minute ago, I wanted nothing to do with this kid. Now, I felt succumbed to tell my story. If something were to happen to me, which it probably will with those 'things' hunting me down, then someone else in this world should know my truth to put in the history books. I speak.
"I was out in the woods and came home to find the entire district consumed in flames. There were these shadow creatures with black skin and hollow eye sockets that cried these ear-piercing shrieks. I didn't even know such monsters existed. They were trying to come after me. I'm the only one who got out alive. Everyone else is dead."
"No way," Marvel gasps. "They're real?"
"What do you mean, 'they're real?' You know about these beasts?" I ask urgently.
"Believe it or not, my grandmother used to tell me about shadow creatures just like the ones you described. She called them 'mutts' though. Said they're a demonic manifestation. They appear when summoned and are capable of great devastation."
"They were summoned?" My head's spinning. These "mutts" have an identity known to others besides myself. I've been feeling like I was going crazy but now I know I'm not alone. There are others who've seen them. Perhaps I can find answers. I want, no, I need to find answers. I'm suddenly on a mission. I suddenly have purpose again. "I must speak to your grandmother," I demand.
"Can't," Marvel replies solemnly. "She's dead."
Well, shit.
"But all is not lost, Cato. She told me these stories after she took a trip to another district; district 12. There lived a man there, Haymitch, who warned her of these things. He was a hell of a lot younger than my old grandma, so I'm sure he's still alive over there."
And the plan is back on. "Well then," I decide, "I'm going to 12. Uhhh… where is it?"
Marvel shoots me a devious grin. "District 12 is all the way on the edge of Panem. Take me with you and I'll get you there."
"Why the hell would you want to go with me? None of this concerns you."
"Are you kidding me? This sounds like an adventure of a lifetime! You, my friend, just confirmed that all my grandmother's stories were true. No way am I missing out on this. Come on, let me go. I'll fight right alongside you if those mutts find you. Just admit it; you need me."
I laugh. "You're fucking delusional if you think I need you. I don't need anyone. But if you insist on coming with me and getting yourself killed, then suit yourself."
Marvel snorts in derision. "Well, you're just a bed of roses, aren't ya? This is going to be a fucked-up journey of epic proportions, I can see it now."
Despite my less-than-personable behavior, Marvel ends up guiding me through 1. The people here are smaller and seem to take more pride in their grooming habits than physical prowess. I begrudgingly end up staying the night with Marvel's family, but at least I get a home-cooked meal out of it. In the morning, with supplies and a spear as his weapon of choice, Marvel leads us to his district's docks.
"Travelling by water around Panem will get us to 12 quicker than travelling through it by foot. And I know the captain well. He's a good man. He'll get us there in one piece."
The captain greets us as we board and when we set sail, I find that my mind is still clouded with visions of my family and friends dead at the hands of those mutts. For weeks I was haunted by nightmares that eerily paralleled what ended up being my reality. Was it all just some crazy coincidence or did I really have premonitions of 2's demise?
"I can't help but notice you seem troubled, young lad," the ship's captain startles me from my thoughts.
"I'm fine," I lie. "I'm just swept up in my thoughts right now."
"You're too young to be living in your head," he preaches. "You should be out living the real world."
"Well, the real world has kinda gone to shit for me, captain."
"Oh, now, that can't be. Tell me your troubles."
Once again, a complete stranger is taking an interest in me. I don't open up to people like this, but the thought of my time running out creeps back in my head and I'm urged to pass on the story. And, once again, my far-fetched tale of mutts and flames doesn't seem far-fetched at all to this crusty old seafarer.
"There are things that you and I are never supposed to know about," he whispers when I finish telling him my plight. "Things that are not of this world."
"The strange thing, captain, is that I dreamt of it happening. For weeks, I saw it in my dreams and I felt it in my bones. My own best friend noticed it changing me, wearing me down. How could it be that I knew what was coming?"
"Fate works in mysterious ways, lad. You were clearly destined to live on. Fate must have a different course for you to follow, so it gave you those premonitions to steer you clear of danger."
"It was those premonitions that drove me out into the woods and saved me. But I kept them to myself and so I only saved myself. I'm so ashamed," I admit. "I should've spoken up. I should've said something."
"Intuition is a blessing, but hindsight is definitely a curse. There's nothing you can do now to change the past, young lad. All that's left is to learn from it."
"You're a wise old bastard, ya know that?" I offer the captain.
"That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me," he smirks back.
I keep to myself, practicing with my sword, until we reach our destination. Leaving the ship, I feel a rough hand rest on my shoulder.
"Godspeed, young lad. May you find what you're looking for," the captain salutes.
"I'll be damned if I let anything stop me," I reply smugly.
Marvel shoots me a look when I say that. "You might find that phrase a little too applicable to your current situation, Cato." He's got a point. Those mutts looked to be straight from hell.
Stepping out for the first time onto the outskirts of Panem, I find it eerily nostalgic. The landscape is a vast array of woodland with what looks to be pristine mountains in the distance. "How far to 12?" I ask Marvel.
"My grandmother told me it was at least a day's walk from the docks. Straight west. I brought my father's compass with me."
"Then west we go," I command as I start to march straight into the woods. The docks disappear quickly behind us as we trek our way deep through the evergreen forest outside of 12. I fight the urge to go back and say a final farewell to the captain. I'll see him again, right?
"Is it just me or does it feel like we're not alone?" Marvel mumbles about 3 hours into our hike.
"It's the forest," I reply. "It's watching us." The hair prickles on the back of our necks the entire time until night begins to fall.
"We camp here for the night," I declare as darkness rapidly consumes the woods. I build a small fire while Marvel unpacks some provisions he brought from 1. I'm still worn out from the events of the past couple days so I succumb to sleep immediately after dinner.
I'm awoken in the dead of night by a scream that somehow stirs up an aching pain in my chest. I can't explain it, but it unnerves me to my core. I feel compelled to find its source. If it's fate's way of guiding me to my destiny again, I know now to heed its calling.
"Marvel," I grunt as I kick him with my foot to try and wake him and get him to follow me. He doesn't even stir and I'd assume he's dead except for the fact his snoring is loud enough to wake the dead. I give up on him and make my way alone through the pitch black forest towards where I heard the scream.
As I walk, I hear the scream again in the distance. There something so familiar about it, like my heart recognizes the voice, although it makes no sense seeing as everyone I've ever known is dead. Still, it stirs me into a panic and I run straight towards it. Through the darkness of the woods, I suddenly see firelight. It's a ways away, but I'm drawn to it. The fire casts shadows of figures looming against the timber. What the fuck is going on over there? I make my way closer, sneaking from tree to tree. I peak my head around to see that the shadows belong to five men dressed in full-length black cloaks. As the flames from torches somehow burn brighter, it's then that I notice the stone altar in the center of their manmade formation. Is this some kind of twisted cult ritual?
It has to be because there's a boy tied to the altar. He looks just a little younger than me. They've stripped him of his clothes. His hands and feet are tied with rope to each corner of the stone slab and his mouth is gagged with a white cloth. He's thrashing about like a wild animal about to be slaughtered. And that's when I realize that that was exactly what was happening; these cloaked freaks are going to kill him. This must be one of those perverse offerings where they sacrifice a young virgin to the darkness.
I can't help but fixate on the naked boy about to be sacrificed. He's nothing like I've ever seen before. His fair skin glows in the fire light. Symbols I assume to be from an ancient language are painted on his naked body. His golden locks are in tangles from struggling yet they frame his perfect face so effortlessly. I can see from here the deep blue oceans of his eyes that glisten with tears against the fire. I'm completely spellbound. The tears begin to stream down his face and I can hear his muffled screams behind the gag. The boy is terrified and he has every right to be. He believes these men are going to kill him. But they're not. They're not going to kill him because I'm going to kill them before they even dare touch the boy again. They won't take him because I've decided in this moment that he's mine.
I want him.
The men gather closer to the altar and one of them pulls out a dagger. I can't waste a second more. They're all so distracted by their precious sacrificial lamb that they don't notice me coming. I silently creep behind the man with the knife. Just as I close in on him, he raises up his dagger to thrust into the boy's heart. I'm right behind you, asshole. I place my hands on either side of his chin and twist. His neck snaps like a twig. As he slumps to the ground, the other four men look at me in shock and soon they each brandish a dagger of their own. Bring it on.
I take out my sword and the longer blade gives me the upper hand. I slice right through one of the men before he can even get close enough to stab me with his pitiful dagger. Another tries to throw his blade at me, but I duck and swing around to decapitate him. The last two see this and try to run away. Hell no. No one fights me and lives to tell the tale. I put my sword away and pick up two of the fallen men's daggers to show off my lethal knife-throwing skills, courtesy of Clove. They both imbed deep into the spines of each of the men and they drop like sacks of potatoes. I'll let them just lay there; time will finish them off.
With those losers accounted for, I eagerly return to the boy's side at the altar. I hoist myself on top of it, on top of him. I pull out my sword to cut his hands free. The sight of the blade sends him into a wild panic. He bucks his hips up, trying to get me off him. He doesn't seem to realize it's getting me off in a different sense of the phrase. He begins to scream again behind the gag, his fearful eyes pleading with me. God, those eyes. They're hypnotizing.
"Shhh," I whisper to him, caressing his cheek. "I won't hurt you."
The boy looks at me in disbelief, but he relaxes a little when he sees me put away my blade.
I observe his bare chest rapidly rising and falling with fear. His distress and vulnerability has my dick standing at attention. I'm so fucking turned on by him right now I can't stand it. I decide right then and there he isn't going anywhere. But if I untie him now, he may try to run away… I'm not going to untie him anytime soon. As far as I'm concerned, he'd be dead right now if not for me. Therefore, his body is mine for the taking. And I definitely plan on taking it.
Okay, so maybe I lied then about not hurting him. I'm certainly not going to kill him or anything, but my plans for him may involve a bit of pain. But I intend to balance it for him with just as much pleasure. "I won't hurt you like those maniacs were trying to do," I tell him, "but I'm not going to let you go until I get what I want."
The boy cocks his head in confusion at my statement and I find his innocence adorable. I run my hands ravenously down his sides, smearing more of the black paint, and stop to grab hold of his waist. I begin tracing circles along the bare flesh of his hips with my thumbs. His skin is soft.
His eyes grow wide in understanding and he panics. He starts pulling against his bindings and I quickly take notice that he's rubbing his wrists raw.
"Stop," I bark, reaching up to grab his wrists. "You're making yourself bleed."
My own panic seems to have startled him. He freezes at my command and so I hesitantly let go.
"The more you struggle, the more it'll hurt," I tell him. "You're not going anywhere, so just behave yourself and try to enjoy it."
As if challenging me, he begins to deliberately grind his wrists into his bindings again, all while staring me dead in the eyes. It has to be excruciating, but he doesn't even flinch as the rope destroys his tender flesh and his blood smears along the altar. The boy's got nerve and he seems to have some fight in him. I like that; a lot. But right now I don't appreciate that he's trying to prove a point by hurting himself. No one's allowed to hurt him, even him.
"What did I just tell you!" I roar as I grab his hands to pin them down. His eyes never leave mine as he begins to scream behind the gag again. He is really wound up right now. If I'm going to take him on this very altar, he's making it perfectly clear that he doesn't intend on giving it up to me easily.
"You're seriously going to be that big of a bitch about it?" I harass him in between his bouts of muffled screams and thrashing.
He stops his tantrum to narrow his eyes at me and he gives me a death glare that screams "fuck you" better than any voice could.
In all honesty, none of his resistance should deter me. Hell, his fight would just make it even hotter. But I find myself unable to go through with it. The familiarity I felt in his scream before I even saw him and the way it churned a pain in my chest has me thinking there's something exceptional about this boy and I want to give him exceptional in return. After the night he's been through, I decide now's not the time to take him.
I take out my sword again and cut the bindings off his ankles and wrists. Still straddling him, I wrap my arms underneath his back and lift him up to sit and face me. Now sitting at my eye level, I slowly remove the cloth from his mouth. He doesn't scream. He doesn't attack me. He simply looks at me with an intensity that nearly paralyzes me. Only his lips are able to keep me grounded. It's the first I've seen them behind the cloth. They look delicious.
"What's your name?" I demand. He simply continues to stare until his precious lips finally part to speak.
"Peeta," he answers. It was just one word but his voice stirs me. It easily replaces the echoes of his frightened screams in my mind and puts me at ease. He parts his lips to speak again. "What's yours?"
"My name is Cato," I oblige, pleased that Peeta even cares to know my name.
"Cato…," he repeats in an awed hush. Hearing Peeta whisper my name, I can't help myself. I just have to have one kiss. Just one. I lean in close and taste his lips. He doesn't resist. They're so soft and so perfect. It seems ludicrous, but I believe I'm officially addicted. One kiss could never be enough.
"I'm taking you with me," I state. It isn't up for discussion.
"What! No!" he fights. "You have to let me go!"
"Why?" I scoff. "Is it because of those freaks I killed? Are there more of them after you? I'm not afraid of them. I'll kill them all if I have to." I mean it too. Just the thought of those men trying to harm him sets my blood to a boil.
"No! And they weren't freaks!" he snaps angrily. His sudden outburst and defense for the men who were just trying to kill him takes me by surprise.
"Don't you even care why they were trying to kill me in the first place?" he questions more calmly.
I reluctantly slide myself off of Peeta so I could examine one of the men I killed. "I assumed they were sacrificing a virgin for some twisted dark ritual," I confess with a shrug as I turn the body over with my foot. This guy is the one I decapitated. He'll never be able to tell me his reasons now. They'll follow him straight to hell.
"If only it were that simple," Peeta states cryptically. Wait, so that wasn't why they strapped him to the altar? Is Peeta a virgin? It makes no difference to me, but now I'm compelled to know the truth as to why those men wanted to kill him so badly. I turn to face him. "What's the real reason then?" I implore.
I notice his fearful hesitation to come clean. Finally, he answers.
"Those men weren't bad. I am," he whispers. "I am cursed. A demon lives within me."
Fuck. Here I am, being pursued by dark entities after my very life, and this boy literally has one in his body. I'm lost as to how I fight my own demons, how in the world can I help him with his own? I stare deep into Peeta's sapphire eyes and I can see the pain of his relentless struggle. I know that pain. I felt it when I realized everyone I ever gave two shits about was dead at the hands of evil. I have to prove to him that he's not alone.
"Whatever's in you, I won't let it hurt you," I promise him. "And I won't let anyone else hurt you because of it. I'm not going to let evil take away any more from me than it already has. I'll protect what's mine. I'll protect you, Peeta."
I bend down to remove the cloak from the dead man at my feet. "Put this on," I tell him. "I don't want anyone to see your body. It belongs to me now."
"What! Are you fucking serious?" he suddenly sneers in outrage. "Just because you saved me, I'm suddenly your property? You think I owe you something? I don't owe you shit!"
I descend upon Peeta in an instant, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck to wrench him closer. "This isn't about what is owed," I grunt through gritted teeth as I shove the robe against his bare chest. "This is about what I want. Now shut your smart little mouth and put on the fucking robe or I'm gonna make you wish you died tonight."
"I'm feeling that way already," he snarls as he begrudgingly takes the robe. I lead him away from the altar, eager to remove him from the sight. I travel in the direction I came from, taking one of the torches to light the way. I feel Peeta's eyes on me the entire way back to camp where Marvel is still fast asleep. I force Peeta to lie down between me and Marvel and I stand guard until he falls asleep. We'll have plenty of time to talk in the morning.