"Damn, Cato! Stop it!" I yell for what seems like the hundredth time. "Wait for me!"
Cato just throws an annoyed look over his shoulder. "I told you, we've got to find them before sunset!"
"And why?" I ask in frustration. "We've been searching all day! I'm tired, Cato –"
"Then sit down and rest", Cato hisses back. "Go ahead. Let me do all the dirty work while you're taking a break."
I tear my hair. "Spare me your comments, okay? Why on earth do we have to find them now?"
Cato sighs.
He's stopped rushing through the woods like a rabid animal searching for its prey. Probably he has finally understood that it's futile to go on. I've told him to stop for about half an hour, but he wouldn't listen to me. For some reason, he is desperate to kill the other tributes before nightfall.
"We haven't eaten since…" Since our supplies were blown up, but I don't want to say that. Cato would only get more aggressive, more eager to kill someone.
"Why don't we look for something to eat?" I suggest cautiously. "And we'll need water soon if we don't want to dehydrate. Killing those weaklings can wait until tomorrow, don't you think?"
He looks at me as if he wanted to punch me in the face. "No, it can't wait!" he bellows. "Don't be such an idiot, Clove!"
"But you're the one being idiotic!"
When Cato starts walking in my direction, I move back instinctively. Is he trying to hit me? Maybe even… to kill me?
I grab a knife from my belt and prepare myself to pull it out at the slightest move. Cato's eyes follow my hand.
"Let go of that knife", he snarls. "I won't try to kill you, okay?"
I look at him, trying to figure out if he's telling the truth. My grip around the knife tightens. I could stab him in less than a second.
Cato reaches for his sword, and I feel my whole body tense up. But much to my surprise, he drops the weapon to the ground and lifts his hands as if to prove his innocence.
"If I wanted to kill you, you would know", he says. "Now let go of that knife."
I pull my hand back reluctantly. Cato steps closer; so close that our faces are only inches apart. I suck in a deep breath as he moves his head forward. His mouth is as close to my ear as it can be.
"We need to find them before the Gamemakers get impatient", he whispers. "Before they can figure out some stupid plan to speed up things."
Cato takes his sword from the ground and steps back without looking at me. I try hard not to seem too surprised. The Gamemakers can see everything that's going on in the arena. It's certain that somebody is watching me at that exact moment, so I have to seem normal. As if Cato told me something completely unspectacular.
"You're right", I tell him. "I get that. But we still need to eat something."
"Yeah, we'll find something after we've found him", Cato replies. "Lover Boy is recovering with every day. It'll spare us a lot of trouble if we find him when he's still weak."
"And where should we look for him, in your opinion? He wasn't at the river, and we've already been through half of the woods. That's enough for one day!"
Cato crosses his arms in front of his chest. If looks could kill, I'd probably be dead by now. "That's ridiculous, Clove", he says cold-heartedly.
"I'm not coming before we found something to eat, or at least some water. And I want a few minutes to rest."
"Didn't you listen to me?" Cato asks, clenching his fists in desperation. "It's important that we find them as soon as possible!"
"We can still find them today, Cato! I'm only asking for a short break."
"Hell, you're so unprofessional", he complains. "We're Careers! We're the strong ones in this game, remember? Don't be such a softy!"
I would love to slash at him right now, but I have to keep control over myself. This is not the time for an emotional breakdown.
"At least I'm not the one who's going to die from dehydration like an amateur!" I shoot back. "I can't believe we're even having that discussion –"
"I can't believe we haven't separated yet!" Cato yells, punching his fist into a nearby tree. "If it weren't for that stupid rule change, I would've got rid of you long ago!"
"Okay then, let's split up!" I cry out. "Or better, why don't you just kill me? Forget about the rule change! Nobody said we had to win together!"
Tears are welling up in my eyes; tears I can't hold back, no matter how hard I try. Maybe Cato's right and I'm being a softy.
In District Two, every child is taught that Careers don't cry. I've learned that from my mother when I was five years old. "Don't even think about crying if you want to be a tribute one day", she said. "Real Careers never cry." Back then, I could hardly believe her. Everybody needs to cry sometimes, I thought. Maybe Careers are just really good at hiding their tears so nobody has ever caught them crying.
If that's true, I guess I've never been a real Career. I've cried a couple of times during my childhood, mostly because some of the elder boys in my neighborhood bullied me at every opportunity. I've never cried because I was unhappy at the academy, though. I've always liked training, and I've always seen it as a chance to take revenge, to show everybody how strong I really am.
Now I can forget about that, too. I imagine my family watching the Games right now, my family and everybody else in my neighborhood, everybody in District Two and all over Panem watching me cry.
It only makes me cry harder. I squeeze my eyes shut and cover my face with both hands.
I don't even know how it started. Probably it was the thought of Cato killing me, or worse, the thought of him hating me so much that he would kill me without further hesitation. He would break my neck like he broke the boy's after the explosion of our supplies…
Everything inside me hurts so much. Cato calling me unprofessional, calling me a weakling and telling me he doesn't want to be with me any longer despite the rule change; the pain his words caused inside of me is worse than that of a thousand knives. No weapon would be able to cause a pain as great as this.
I try to swallow down the tears. I take a few deep breaths and gather all my strength to stop myself from shaking. Then I pull back my hands.
Cato is standing at the exact spot, motionless, as if he was rooted right there.
"Come and kill me", I repeat, my voice as steady as possible. "If that's what you want to do, I'm not going to stand in your way."
Fresh tears are blurring my vision, but I don't close my eyes. I feel them running down my cheeks as I look at Cato, expecting him to pull out his sword and come for me. He doesn't move, though.
He just stares at me in astonishment. Eventually, he shakes his head as if he wanted to drive away some annoying thought.
He finally starts walking. I observe every step he takes and I try to feel nothing, but the emotions are overwhelming me like a wave of irresistible extends.
This is the moment. He's going to kill me. Cato is going to kill me.
Didn't I promise myself to finish him off first?
Go ahead, Clove. Do it. It's easy. How many throats have you already cut? I've stopped counting.
Yeah, how many throats have I already cut? But it's different with Cato. He's not some faceless, anonymous creature I don't give a damn about. No, Cato means something to me.
And that's why I can't simply reach for my knife and cut his throat. I could never kill him, even if I wanted to.
Well, he can, darling. You'll be dead in the blink of an eye.
So be it. Cato and I weren't meant to be, but that's okay.
I force myself to keep my eyes open as he comes closer. He hasn't pulled out his sword yet. Is he going to strangle me?
I focus on my breathing and tell myself that it's okay. Everybody in Panem has seen me cry. I'm already a weakling, so it doesn't matter what kind of death I'll have. Even if I won the Games now, I could never restore my family's lost honor. It's over now. This is the end.
Cato looks so perfect, I think. I will never forget the way his hair reflects the sunlight like a mirror, or the way his gray eyes are staring into the distance…
I'm surprised to find no trace of bloodlust in his gaze. Yeah, he seems almost peaceful if you take a closer look.
And then, suddenly, our eyes meet and I see all those emotions: desperation, worry, empathy, guilt. Cato reaches out his hands. I let out a deep sigh while his fingers are wandering down the length of my arm. It feels right, somehow. It makes me forget about my tears and the images in my mind. Everything's gone; blown away by the wind.
"Come here", I hear Cato's soothing voice. "Sit down. We'll have a few minutes."
He makes me sit down on a big rock and crouches down right in front of me, his hands resting on my knees.
"You didn't seriously think I would kill you", he whispers. "Did you?"
I need all my concentration to hold back more tears, so I don't answer. My expression seems to be enough of an answer, though.
"Did you really think I would do that?" Cato goes on. "Now that we both could win? Never, Clove. We'll go home together."
"I can't", I get out. "Everybody's seen me cry. My family –"
"Don't worry about that", Cato interrupts me. "They'll be okay. They'll be happy to see you!"
"They won't."
Cato sighs. "How about finding something to eat?" he asks, changing the subject. "I have to admit I'm pretty hungry, too."
Before I have the chance to answer, I feel his thumb on my cheek, wiping away the tears. "Stop that now", he whispers, his voice almost reproachful. "Are you gonna come?"
"Sure", I reply.
