Ordinarily I pride myself on being levelheaded and at times having brilliant ideas. But this is not one of those times. Of course, the Games have changed everything even me and that's why even though my idea is stupid and it's more of a thought than a full-fledged plan I'm determined to see it through. I'm looking for Peeta. As soon as Cato finds out he'll kill me, and if Katniss finds me I'm dead but I feel like I owe him some sort of debt. I can't explain why; maybe because he was nice to me during training and he was nice to me even while we're in the Games. More than that, I think it's because he reminds me a little bit of Bran – too nice for his own good and horribly unsuited for the Games.
I barely make it half a mile into the forest before I'm ambushed by the boy from Ten. All thoughts of finding Peeta and apologizing or helping him immediately from my mind as Ten slams me into a tree, wielding a deadly looking axe. There's a crazed glint in his eyes and I duck as he swings the axe where my head had been a few moments before. Decapitation is not in my plans. The axe gets stuck in the wood of the tree and I kick him in the stomach, using what little leg strength I have to keep him away from his weapon. If I can keep him weaponless I might have a shot at getting away from him. Or, if worse comes to worse killing him.
He growls throwing a wild out of control punch my way that I'm barely able to dodge. Before I can process it, he is on me, pounding his fists into my stomach. I choke out a scream writhing beneath him and somehow manage to throw him off me. Well, not really throw. More like dislodge and get him off balance. I shove him, knocking him to the floor and draw one of the many knives I had hidden on my person. He smiles cockily. Even with the appearance of a weapon he isn't intimidated by me at all, and even though it shouldn't bother me – I am very aware that I'm perhaps the least intimidating person out there – it for some reason does. He leaps at me again and wildly I lash out with the knife, causing him to let out an enraged roar as it cuts through his skin drawing blood.
It is then I notice that he's not wearing a jacket. It only takes another moment before I realize he's charging at me again. Before I even realizing it, I am moving putting into practice the skills I had learned during training. I duck his outstretched arms and using his own momentum against him trip him up and slightly flipping his much larger frame over mine. He groans, lying winded on the forest floor and before I'm even aware of what I'm doing, I'm leaning over him and digging the knife into the soft skin of his throat. The knife pierces his throat and instantly the light leaves his eyes as blood sprays from the room, getting on my face, down the front of my jacket and coating my hands in it.
I am vaguely aware of the cannon booming but beyond that I have trouble comprehending anything. I see a flash of red hair out of my peripheral vision but by the time I twist around it's gone. Shakily, I get to my feet stumbling away from the body of the boy from Ten as the roar of a hovercraft becomes much clearer. I stumble in the direction of the Cornucopia, sheathing my knife and then trying to wipe the blood off of my face. I pause at the tree line, a few hundred yards away from the Cornucopia and my – temporary – allies, surprised that Cato, who still needs to recover from the trackerjacker venom, is arguing with Clove, who must have recently awoken, because she has his weapons and is refusing to give them to him.
Their words become clearer as I get closer, and it isn't long before Clove spots me.
"See!?" she shouts pointing at me. Cato whirls his expression becoming worried once he spots me covered in blood. "She's there! She's fine!" She stomps her foot, "And I am keeping your damned weapons you stupid idiot!"
"Shut up you harpy," Cato growls. And then he's stalking away from Clove and toward me. I feel nervous for a moment but it quickly fades when he cups my face in his hands gently, blue eyes glimmering with an emotion that I think is concern. "What happened?"
"I killed the boy from Ten," my voice is little more than a whisper. My eyes dart over his shoulder to Micro who is rubbing a rapidly bruising cheek. "I went into the forest and he jumped me. So, I killed him."
"Good girl," Cato whispers, astonishing me further when he tugs me securely against his chest.
I want to say that I shouldn't be praised for killing someone, but I can't find the words. I slump against him, all of the adrenaline and fight from before quickly fading and leaving me exhausted. His hand strokes through my hair which had fallen from its bun, while his other arm remains wrapped possessively around my waist. I'm puzzled by his sudden change of attitude - and affection – toward me, but I don't dare to question it. Obediently I let him lead me over to the Cornucopia, too tired to actually bother putting up a fuss or argue with him. I sink down to the ground, barely aware that I'm shaking.
I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I killed another human being, and comprehend Cato's sudden change in attitude. Clove hands him something and then he's kneeling in front of me, a bowl of broth in his hands. I try to take it from him, but the instant I do so he's pulling it away from me a stern look on his face. It's only when I slump against the Cornucopia with a sigh, that he brings the thermos closer and slowly lifts the spoon out of the bowl. I'm stunned by the soft but demanding look in his eyes. I don't have the energy to argue with him, and willingly let him spoon-feed me the meal.
When he's done, I curl onto my side looking away from him. I hear him sigh but thankfully he backs off and doesn't try to approach me. It's only minutes later that I realize I want him; well maybe not him exactly, but I do want human comfort. But I don't dare call out to him and let him know that; I don't need him having an advantage over me. Somehow, somehow though he knows because it isn't long before he's slinking back over to me, sitting on the grass beside me his back against the Cornucopia. Then he's wrapping an arm around me, tugging me closer so that I'm practically in his lap. My cheeks flush and I weakly struggle, but stop moving when he rests his chin on my shoulder his eyes roving around what remained of the Career pack. Clove was picking at her nails with a knife, and Marvel was dozing in the grass while Micro was shifting nervously behind Clove.
"I killed him," I whispered, and the arm Cato has around my waist tightens.
"You did good," he answered back his tone softer than I would have expected. "It was either him or you, and you chose you. There's nothing wrong with that." He paused, "He attacked you, didn't he?" A barely perceptible nod. "It was self-defense. It's not like what happened during the Bloodbath. It's nothing like what we did."
I can't help but asking him, "What changed?" He doesn't reply but I can sense his surprise mingled with curiosity. "Between us?" He stills. "You still want to kill me, don't you?"
"I have to," he murmurs. "If I want to get home, I have to kill you. Wouldn't you rather it be me than Bitch on Fire?"
"Of course," I answered back. "But, that doesn't explain why you're being so nice to me now." I shifted in his arms, twisting so I could look at him. "It doesn't make sense to me. Why you're being this affectionate." I frowned, "It's weird."
"Would you rather I ignore you?" Cato drawls. The grip his hand on my hip tightens and he looks away from me, clenching his jaw.
Clove broke into the conversation, "What he's trying to say without actually saying it, is that he thinks you're attractive and he likes you."
"Clove," Cato snarls looking a mixture of embarrassed and furious.
I smile as he starts ranting because this is the Cato I know. His affection and tenderness toward me was nice, but it was weird (that's not to say I didn't enjoy it). I didn't know how to handle it, but aggressive and angry Cato – that I can handle. Clove merely smiles, enduring the verbal abuse for quite a while until she gets fed up with it and throws a knife at Cato's head. It didn't hit him, because I think she wasn't aiming for him. If there was one thing I knew about Clove, it was that she rarely ever missed, so for the knife to land less than an inch away from Cato's head told me that she hadn't been aiming for him at all.
"Are we going to be hunting Bitch on Fire soon or what?" Clove grumbled, crossing her arms and leaning back. "Loverboy is gone, but I haven't heard a cannon. He probably joined with his little girlfriend, huh? But he's injured, right?" Cato nodded. "Hm. Then wouldn't it be easy to go after them now, and kill them while they're vulnerable?"
"So are we Clove," Cato reminded her. "We are not strong enough yet, to go after her."
Clove smirked, "Not strong enough? Whoever thought Cato would admit a weakness."
I kept silent as they squared off against each other. I knew that they weren't truly angry at each other, or annoyed; this was just how their relationship works. It's probably because they are from Two – the emotionally stunted District. Honestly what else could it be called? In Two, you are trained for the Hunger Games because it's seen as an honor and if you are one of the lucky ones picked, you are expected to win. I glanced at Cato and then at Clove; for them, it would be shameful if they didn't win. But then again, it wouldn't matter because they would be dead. Still, they wanted to bring honor to their families and their District so they would fight as hard as they could to win.
I didn't have the same motivation. I hadn't expected to be picked for the Hunger Games, and it was by sheer luck that I had made it this far and that I hadn't been killed yet. It helped that I had the protection of the Careers, but that protection wouldn't last for long. I knew that. All it would take is a few more deaths and then it would be me that they are hunting. It should bother me, that I know I'm only days away from being one of their victims, but I think I've come to accept it. As optimistic as I had tried to be, I had known all along that I wouldn't be getting out of the arena alive. Not unless by some miracle the Gamemakers would choose to eliminate all of my competition and leave me the only one alive.
Clove raised an eyebrow turning her unnerving gaze to me. "Looks like she's getting a little tired."
I felt Cato shift under me and it took me a moment to realize that he was curving his body around me. I flushed bright red and I could make out Clove cackling as Cato shifted us so that we were lying on the ground.
"Go to sleep little one," he murmured his voice a gravelly rumble in his chest. "We will be here when you wake."
His words shouldn't bring me any sort of comfort but they do, and soon I find myself dozing off wrapped in the arms of the most dangerous participant in the arena. But I find that I do not mind that at all.
