Both their
Parents insisted they
Fight.
Training your children
For the Games
Was everything.
Sword against sword.
Sweat.
Immense heat.
Tasngled hair,
But laughs.
Cato and the
Girl collasped on
Hay.
They were in
His father's
Forge, using his
Swords.
"That was..."
"Fun," he finished.
They were ten,
Too young to know
What love was,
But too old
To ignore the feelings.
"Again?" she breathed.
"In a bit."
The sky was
Getting dark.
And curfew was
Near, but neither
Cared.
Together they
Stood, her wobbling
Into him.
"Sorry."
"You want me
To take you
Home?"
"I'll be fine,"
Was her reply
Before placing her
Borrowed sword away.
"Tomorrow at my
Father's place."
Without waiting
For a reply,
She left,
Smiling.