Clove POV

The gong chimes and I propel myself forward, my eyes locked on a set of knives in the heart of the Cornucopia. I've never sprinted this fast before – adrenaline is fueling my pounding feet, my moving legs. I glance around me and am delighted to see that I'm leading the tributes moving towards the Cornucopia. Usually, I'm not fond of my lack of height – but this time it has come in handy, and allowed me to move more swiftly towards my target.

I reach the Cornucopia and I immediately grab the knives. Marvel is right behind me. He picks up a spear and throws it at the nearest tribute, a girl, from District 3. The sharp tip punctures her abdomen and she falls, a torrent of blood spilling from her mouth. I'm repulsed at his nonchalance – he killed someone so effortlessly, so thoughtlessly. I glance at her crumpled body, her lifeless eyes. "I'm sorry," I murmur, to her corpse. I turn away, gripping my knives. I'm frozen. To my left, Glimmer is maiming someone with a blade. To my right, Marvel is claiming his second victim. As I view the awful carnage, I wait for some surge of feeling. But what I did, this morning – it has drained the sense from me. I feel like I'm observing this from a screen, miles and miles away from here.

Something catches the corner of my eye. It's Cato, hunched over the District 5 boy. Cato has already cut the boy's face with his sword – a deep, agonizing wound, but not a killing wound. Cato glances at me, and seeing my notice, he slits the boy's throat. Killing him. "I made it quick, for you," He says, emotionlessly, before heading onto the next tribute. These words snap some sense into me – what am I doing? Sponsors are watching. I am trying to save Cato. And letting tributes get away will not make this job any easier. I clench my knives, and without hesitation, I throw one at a retreating tribute. The girl tribute, from District 7. She dodges at the last second, preventing a fatal injury, sending the knife into her thigh. The wound isn't an immediate killer, but it's deep. Untreated, it will become infected. She's dead anyway. I run towards her, and she tries to flee, but the injury has incapacitated her. I pin her down – not wanting to risk missing again. "Please," She chokes out, her eyes wide with terror.

Every decent part of me screams to free her. But.. this is the Hunger Games. There is no excuse for killing someone, but killing is what the Games are about. I drain every thought, every protest from my brain; and allow my hands to make the decision. I shove a knife into her heart, and she takes a few gasping breaths before her body goes completely stiff. I feel myself go numb. For now, I have abandoned everything I stand for. I allow a different part of myself to take over – the apathetic part. The part that simply doesn't care.

I retrieve the knives, scan the surrounding area for tributes and find one. The boy from District 9 – he's only a few yards from me, and he's facing away, unaware of my presence. I aim carefully and it pays off, the knife landing in his back. As his body tips forward, I realize that someone is behind him. Katniss. I launch myself forward, desperate to reach her. She's one of our biggest competitors, with that 11 – if I could only kill her now…

She has no weapons. She will be easy prey. As soon as I get close enough, I shove a knife forward, aiming precisely. At the last second, she hoists her backpack up, protecting her head and shielding my knife. The knife lodges in her backpack.. rather than her head. I curse internally – I've given her a weapon and I've failed to kill her. It's tempting, but it's not worth it to trail her, especially when other tributes still remain in the thick of the Cornucopia.

I head back towards the Cornucopia. I notice Thalia struggling with another tribute, and I'm about to assist her when someone shoves me to the ground. I'm up in a second. I spin around. It's a boy – from District 7, the one whose District partner I killed earlier. He has no weapons – he struck me with one of his fists. He's challenging me to a fight – a poor decision. I pull the two knives from the girl and throw one at him, striking his lower-stomach. I've delivered his final wound, certainly – it'll kill him, though it may take some time for him to bleed out. "I loved her!" He cries, ignoring his bloody, crimson wound. "Why didn't you save her, then?" I say coldly – if he wanted sympathy, love was certainly not the right sob story to pick. He stares at me blankly, saying nothing. "Well.. I guess I'm doing you a favor by allowing you to join her. I'll even use the same knife that killed her!" My voice sounds so frigid, so unlike my own. I shove the already-bloody knife into his heart, and he's dead in seconds. I pull out both knives and look around me.

Many tributes lie dead on the ground. Blood soaks the grass and the Cornucopia. The fighting seems to have stopped – any tributes that dared get too close to the Cornucopia are dead. I'm about to join Thalia, Marvel and Cato in the Cornucopia, where they're rooting through the supplies, when a blood-curdling scream rips through the air. I follow the sound, leading me to the other side of the Cornucopia. Glimmer is hunched over a tribute, hacking away at them with a sword. Their face is a bloody, indistinguishable mess. I can't tell what the gender or District of the victim is. Wounds lace their body, and Glimmer taunts them, though they seem to be on the verge of death. "What are you doing?" I say furiously. Torturing someone to such a degree is cruel and horrendous. No matter where you are. "Just having a bit of fun," She coos sweetly, grinning madly. She turns back to her victim, eager to cause them as much agony as possible before their inevitable death. I can't just… allow this to happen. Somewhere, this tribute's family is watching – watching helpless as they're put through hell. Praying that they lost consciousness far before they were put through the brunt of this misery.

I slam the handle of one of my knives into the back of Glimmer's head. She screeches and falls away from the tribute, clutching her head and moaning in pain. Before she can get up, I crouch over the tribute and plunge my knife into their forehead, ending their shallow, desperate breaths. "You stole my kill!" Glimmer cries, already forgetful of her minor injury. "You were going too far." I growl. Maybe I'm a hypocrite – but if you're going to kill someone in the Hunger Games, you should at least have the decency to make it quick and clean. That's the least someone who dies in this hellhole deserves.

She shrieks and lunges at me, wielding her sword. My instincts immediately take over – I'm not overly skilled at combat, but I can handle her. She swings her sword towards my head, and I duck; barely avoiding the moving blade. In a flurry of motion I manage to trip her. I seize the opportunity to pin her down, and press a knife against her throat. I'm not going to kill her, as much as I despise her petty actions. She's a valuable alliance member… and I haven't quite forgotten our chat during training – I don't want to be the one to rip her away from her fiancé and siblings. "Remember.. I'm a leader of this alliance," I snarl. "If you have a problem, feel free to take it up with me." Her face is no longer arrogant – it's fearful. Even the strongest of people can turn into sniveling, terrified messes when faced with death. "O-Okay," She murmurs.

I leap up, taking my knife with me. When I turn around, I'm faced with Cato, Marvel, Thalia and Ethan. They stare at me solemnly – they must've all watched the whole thing play out. I push past them and head inside the Cornucopia. I haven't had time yet to examine any of the supplies – I only have my knives. I start to rummage through the mass of things, adding a few more blades to my collection. There is such an overwhelming, never-ending amount of supplies in the Cornucopia that, apart from weapons, Careers don't really claim anything as their own. There's enough for all of us.

"Clove?" Cato says, poking his head in the Cornucopia. A flush of red immediately stains my cheeks – I still can't believe what I've done. I force myself to meet his eyes. "Marvel, Glimmer, Thalia and I are going to look for drifters. Stay here, guard camp. We're leaving Ethan with you," He says. His words are distant – it's strange to hear him speak without his normal warmth. I nod. "Clove…," He says, turning back before bounding to join the others. "Get rest. You need it." He runs to catch up to the others. "Good-bye!" I call, but he doesn't turn back.

For the first time, I catch reflection of myself in the gleam of one of my knives. My hair is matted, my eyes bloodshot; streaks of blood cover my face. I try my best to smooth out my hair and wipe the stains from my skin. I feel a bit… betrayed, hurt at the fact that I'm left as a babysitter while the rest of them tribute-hunt. But, in reality, it's not unreasonable for Cato to not desire my company. I sigh and get up, joining Ethan just outside of the Cornucopia. "Hi!" He pipes brightly. I feel guilty, realizing that I didn't think of his well-being once during the Bloodbath - I'm surprised that he even managed to survive. He holds a spear that's nearly bigger than him. "Don't worry – we'll probably go hunting again later tonight. I'll make sure we aren't left out, then." I say, forcing a smile.

I glance around the field, and feel my stomach roll. Bodies and blood still stain it. There's a certain time frame before the bodies can be collected – usually the Gamemakers wait until the Careers take care of drifters to end the Bloodbath. Drifters – as we call them, in District 2 – are tributes that don't have the good sense to get far, far away from the Cornucopia. There are always tributes that linger within a half-mile of the Cornucopia. Generally it's out of desperation because they made away with nothing and hope they can sneak past the Careers and nab a weapon, but sometimes it's due to lack of common sense and stupidity.

I can feel my eyelids getting heavier as I stare out into the trees. My lack of sleep combined with the exertion of the Bloodbath has exhausted me. To keep my mind alert, I entertain myself by searching through everything in the Cornucopia. I find a jacket with slots in it – perfect for carrying knives – and quickly put it on. I pull the knives I've collected so far out of the various places I've stored them – my pockets, my belt; and arrange them neatly in the jacket. I'm delighted at this find – now I can easily grab a weapon if I ever need to, without my opponents expecting anything. I pull my mother's letter from my boot, and read it over and over again; the words I know by heart bring me peace and ease.

It's only been a few hours since the Games started, yet the hours feel like days. I try to ignore the fact that I'm responsible for three deaths – a fourth, maybe; though I really just put someone out of their otherwise-caused misery. Three families are anticipating my death eagerly… revenge for their children. Though I may've pleased the Capitol, I've certainly not pleased myself.

Another half hour passes with no signs of any tributes come to hijack the Cornucopia. I start to yawn, and move my body around in a desperate attempt to keep myself awake. "I can handle the guarding – you can take a nap, if you want to," Ethan says, noticing my droopy eyes. My body desperately urges me to accept this offer – what help will I be to this alliance if I'm half-asleep and out of my proper senses? The arena isn't overflowing with activity, at the moment – if I get some rest now, I'll have a clear head for whatever the rest of the day may bring. "Yes. I think I'll take a quick nap – carefully watch the forest and lake. If you see anything, wake me up." I don't think there's any major harm in taking a speedy nap –I can be up and ready to fight in a second, if necessary. I fish a sleeping bag from the Cornucopia and lay down on top of it, careful not to position myself near blood or bodies. I clutch a knife in my hand, in case I wake up to an approaching fight. "Look," I say. "If I sleep any longer than half an hour, just poke me. Thank you – I'll make this up to you." He smiles kindly and nods. I shut my heavy eyelids.

oooo

I wake up – and immediately start to wheeze, choking for air desperately. I open my eyes, and there's Ethan, sitting atop my chest. I blink furiously, trying to erase the scene in front of me, convinced that I'm dreaming. But as I realize that I'm not, I come to the conclusion that I am in a very dangerous situation. He's cutting off the flow of air to my lungs – and from the cold smirk on his face, I can tell that it's purely intentional.

I try to move my hands, to push him off – but they're tied together, under him. I try to wiggle my legs and feet, but sense no motion. He has incapacitated me completely. "How..? Why..?" I whisper. "Oh, it was too easy, Clove," He says, his voice calculating and cruel. "As soon as you fell asleep, I knew I had my chance. You were out cold, unable to defend yourself." His smirk only grows wider along with each word. "I'm very good with nets, weaving – it was practically effortless to knot you up! I'm gentle and skilled.. I'm sure you only felt a slight prickle with every knot," He laughs. "You let me into the alliance because you thought I was so innocent and adorable, didn't you? You thought I'd die immediately." For a second, his arrogance is broken. His words are accusing. "From the minute you let me into your alliance, I formulated a plan. Kill you all off, whether it be in your sleep or.. like this," His grin returns. "I'm the next Finnick Odair." I spit at him and he gasps angrily. "Finnick Odair? Are you deluded? You may've beat me, by pure luck and chance, you brat – but do you really think you can defeat the likes of Cato or Marvel, even?" I growl. He punches me and I am utterly defenseless, only able to take the blow as it comes. "They're stupid, like you are. I can beat them. They'll never see it coming. Cato, especially. How will he cope, after his precious Clove's death? I've already got the story planned – you put up a great fight, but the tribute that came to get water from the lake was only stronger. You died instantly.. quickly… painlessly," He coos. "Don't use Cato as a weapon. He'll be able to see through you. Do you really think he'll accept that story so readily?" I taunt. A flash of fear runs through his eyes. Of course, he doesn't know what happened between Cato and I – but if I have a chance to put him at unease, I will.

"It doesn't matter," He snarls. "I'm winning these Games.. and just for those last few comments, I think you deserve a nice, painful, slow death." He pulls out a knife – my knife – and waves it in front of my face teasingly. "So, this is how you repay me for sparing you a Bloodbath death?" I say coolly. "Oh, Clove – I liked you. Had a crush on you, actually. But winning is my top priority, and you needed to be taken down. Such a pretty face… too bad that I'll have to destroy it."

I try to assess the situation rationally – and, immediately, it's evident that I will not be getting out of this. Ethan seems to be… disturbed, to say the least. He won't accept my reasoning; and I'm bound. I can't fight, and with his weight against me, it's difficult to even move. The rope tied around me feels like silk – but it's tough and heavy, like chains. My bound limbs cannot break free. I'm frozen in place. Knowing I have no time to spare, I launch my head and shoulders forward in an attempt to knock him off. But he's too heavy – and my try earns me another punch to the head, disorienting me further. If only I could reach one of my knives…

I can't believe this. All my hours of training. All the misery I've been put through. My life has been lived.. just to be ended by this twisted child, just to be ended due to my poor decisions. I'm at fault, entirely. It was an idiotic choice to allow my fatigue to control me – how I managed to stay asleep while he tied me up is beyond my knowledge. I'm the one that allowed him into the alliance. I'm the one that trusted him, when the Hunger Games are not a place to do so. I'm the one that thought him a reliable ally, when, in reality, he's…. this. At least I can have a small amount of relief: his plan to trick the rest of the alliance won't work. After I'm gone, they won't have any use for him. They'll finish him before he can get away.

As he presses the knife against my throat, emotions come flooding in. I have failed Enobaria, Brutus, everyone that has trained me – as I imagine their stunned faces watching, hot tears of shame begin to spill from my eyes. Fate can be so cruel. I've already let go of Cato, breaking my heart in the process; and now I'm going to die a painful death on the first day of the Games. I have failed Cato. I have failed my father, the victor. I have failed my mother. Most of all, I have failed myself. I… can't.. believe… this. I am dying unloved. My grave will go untouched. People may look back on me occasionally – to remark how odd it was that a girl with a 10 managed to die on the first day, but that's all. I wonder how Cato will feel.. and for a fleeting moment, I am glad that I did what I did. If it helps ease his pain… My soul shatters as I realize that, really, I've fulfilled no purpose in my life. I have had very few moments of happiness in my life – most of which have involved Cato. I am so empty, and so alone.

I don't call for help – who would I call for, Cato? "Oh, Cato – I was so despicable to you… now, save me!" If I must die, I will die strong and unwaveringly, with a small amount of dignity left. Everyone watching must be sitting on the edge of their seats – how often does this happen? Someone untrained, young and weak killing a Career?

I close my eyes and take a few breaths – as hard as it is, considering Ethan's perched on my chest. I will not turn into a regretful mess on my deathbed. I will die knowing that I've fought a good battle. If this is how it ends, so be it. I will accept my death with peace.

Ethan traces the knife across my face. "Crying?" He says tauntingly. That breaks me – if he's going to kill me, he should at least spare me some respect. "Just kill me already, you bastard!" I scream. "I'll kill you when I want to, Clove," He says, chuckling. It disgusts me, how much he's enjoying this. He runs the knife across my neck, cutting deeply enough to draw blood. I close my eyes and let go, ready to accept any agony that may come.

Cato POV

"We're going back," I say. "Why?" Marvel says whiningly. We've gone a few miles into the woods, finding no one. It's a lost cause – and we're running out of water and food. "We have to replenish our supplies, and we need to check on camp." I say. "You mean, you need to check on Clove?" Marvel says, coaxing a laugh from Glimmer. "I dare you – say that again," I snarl. Their laughter stops and we fall into silence. The silence remains as we get a few miles closer to camp. "Why haven't the cannons fired yet?" Glimmer says. I'm wondering the same thing – unless there's a fight going on somewhere, usually the death toll of the Bloodbath has already been taken. "Usually they only withhold the cannons and collecting this long if there is still a struggle going on near the Cornucopia," Thalia says delicately. As if confirming her words, a shout rings through the air. "Just kill me already, you bastard!" Clove. The voice is Clove's. Adrenaline pounds through my veins as I start to run. I desperately command my legs to move faster and faster as I sprint through the forest. I'm aware of nothing around me, only my goal – to get there before anyone can hurt her. I reach the field and don't even pause as I continue running towards her. She's on the ground, underneath Ethan. I can't tell if she's hurt – but if he has even touched her, I'll make him regret it… a thousand times over. I reach them – the kid is so engrossed in her that he hasn't even noticed me – and I throw him off. I plunge my sword into his heart without hesitation and leave him to die. "Clove! Clove!" I say, heading back towards her. Her eyes are closed, and a stream of blood flows down her neck. "Cato..," Her words are slow and disconnected. Her eyes flip open. "Cato." Tears run down her face. She's tied down – I pick up a knife lying in the grass and use it to slit the ropes that are wrapped around her elbows, hands, ankles and legs. She leaps up, wraps her arms around me and buries her face in my shoulder. "Cato…," She whispers. She shivers and pulls herself away from me. "Thank you for saving me," She says coolly. "Your wound..," I say. "It's not deep," She says. "I'm sure I can find some disinfectant and bandages in the Cornucopia." She turns away before I can protest. I feel… rejected; though the relief that she's not seriously injured makes it easy to ignore this. I came so close to losing her – I don't think I've quite processed it yet…

Ethan's death signals the end of the Bloodbath. Eleven cannons are fired, and one by one, the bodies are collected. I had three kills, him included. I killed the District 5 boy quickly, after Clove shot me a horrified look; my other kill I… prolonged. I should feel guilt but I… don't. I ended their lives with no effort or hesitation.. I've become desensitized.

I follow Clove into the Cornucopia. "What happened?" I prod gently. She stays silent for a few moments, as if debating whether to tell me. "I…," Her voice comes out weakly and she clears her throat, trying again. "I made an awful decision," She says. "The effort of the Bloodbath and lack of sleep got to me. I tried my best to stay awake – but after a while of my yawning, Ethan told me to get some rest and reassured me that he'd be fine," She says. "I heeded his words – I trusted him, and I thought some rest would clear my head. He managed to tie me up while I was asleep – I guess years of net-weaving in 4 made his hands nimble and skilled. When I woke up, he had me pinned down. I tried to fight – but I couldn't break free of the rope and without my hands I'm useless." She says. "If he had just stabbed me in my sleep, one of those eleven cannons would be for me. But he wanted to have fun. He taunted me – he said he'd kill you and be the next Finnick Odair. Thank you, Cato. If you had come only a few minutes later…," She says. "I know how pathetic it is that he nearly managed to kill me, after my life of training. I owe everything to you." She hangs her head in shame. "It's not your fault – you trusted your ally, and he happened to be a psychopath. You couldn't have foreseen that.. don't be hard on yourself, in any other situation you could've killed him," I say. For a second, it's like this morning never really happened. She wraps her arms around me and I stroke her hair. After only a few seconds, she backs away. Her eyes glue themselves to mine and she stares at me sorrowfully, as though she wants to say something. She walks out of the Cornucopia, though; ignoring her neck wound and remaining silent. I want to follow her.. but I don't.

I shove a few canteens of water, matches, a flashlight and bandages into my backpack, and hoist it up on my shoulders. "Clove, Thalia, stay here and guard camp; the rest of us are going tribute hunting." I say. Clove starts to protest, but I stop her words. "Your neck is still bleeding.. you should stay here, to recover from the shock," I say. Her wound has a thin, crimson soaked bandage wrapped around it; blood still seeps down her neck. I don't want to leave her alone – not after I came so close to losing her. But, at the same time, it hurts too much to be here. To be around her when I know we'll never act the way we used to again. "You're right, I suppose.. have bountiful hunting," She says. We meet eyes and I'm the first to look away. "Thank you," I murmur, and leave her with a nod.

I head towards the forest, clutching my sword; hearing the footsteps of Glimmer and Marvel behind me. They speed up their pace so they're beside me. Marvel holds a spear, and Glimmer holds a bow and quiver of arrows. "You can shoot a bow?" I say, staring at the weapon skeptically. Knives, spears and swords are far more common among Careers. "Of course," She says. She attaches an arrow to the bowstring and pulls back. The arrow goes haywire and lands only 15 feet away from us, on the forest floor. "Ow!" She shrieks, letting out a string of curse words. Across her thumb is a red gash, spewing blood. "The arrow must've skinned me!" She cries, wrapping a thick bandage around the small wound. Noticing our silence, her cheeks redden. She retrieves the arrow. "I can do better! I just get rusty without practice, is all," She says, her voice high and defensive. She tries again, and the shot results similarly. Marvel laughs and she slams her foot into his shin. "Must be this bow.. I'm just not used to it. Plus, those arrows aren't made properly…," She growls. She shoves the bow into her backpack and pulls out a blade. It's a small sword – not quite as powerful or heavy as mine. I can assume that she handles it better than she handled the bow – she had to get that 8 somehow.

"So, Cato.. what's going on with the chick from your District and you?" Marvel says. "You saved her life, that definitely deserves more action than a hug," He snickers. I can respond to this in one of two ways – either, I can bash some sense into that tiny brain of his; or I can please the sponsors and be the brute I was during the interviews. The latter seems to be the safer option – the Capitol wants the Cato that kills, the brutish Cato. Not the Cato that would give up his life for a girl that doesn't even care for him.

"It's not like that anymore," I grumble. "You finally came to your senses? I knew you would. First, you use 'em – pretend to care about them, explore their body, ya know. Then, you kick them to the curb after you've seen it all. The girl from your District, she's all right – but, man, there's better. Have you seen Cashmere, from my District?" He says, and licks his lips. I'm disgusted, and can feel the bile rising in my throat. I expect Glimmer to frown at his words – but she pouts and shoves him. "You think Cashmere, that old hag, is attractive? Do you see what you have standing next to you?" She says. He glances at her chest and grins. "You're not bad…," She giggles and kisses him on the cheek. "Keep the compliments coming!" She says. Both of them wait for me to speak. "That dress you wore at the interviews was certainly something," I say, forcing the words from my mouth, playing along. I say this to make up for everything I've done connecting myself to Clove in the arena – letting nothing stop me from saving her, hugging her, speaking to her in a way that suggests we're more than allies. I don't want to come off as desperate to the audience – and I need to accept that Clove doesn't care for me.. as hard as it is. "Oh, really?" She purrs, stroking my arm. Her touch repulses me. Clove is the only girl I want near me.. whereas Clove's touch sends shivers through me, Glimmer's touch makes my skin crawl. I pull away from her.

Their childish banter finally dies and we walk along in silence. As we trudge on, conquering mile after mile, Glimmer and Marvel start to fall behind, walking a few yards away from me. I try to ignore their conversation, focusing instead on the forest and the task at hand; but I catch bits and pieces of their words anyway. When Clove's name is mentioned, my ears start to perk up. "How pathetic! She almost got killed by a.. what.. how old was the kid? 12?" Marvel says. "I know! What a disgrace. If I were her, I would kill myself from the shame." Glimmer responds. "Could she not fight him? I could kill him with my hands chopped off and my eyes blindfolded," Marvel snickers. "How'd she manage to get that 10, anyway?" He continues. "I bet you she stripped for them – I bet you she stripped for Cato, too! Why else would he have been so… charmed with her?" Glimmer says. They slap hands, laughing.

No one will disrespect her like that, not around me. I spin around and glare at both of them. I don't say anything, for fear of setting myself off – my hands are shaking in anger, and I have a very strong urge to make them pay for what they've said. Both of them cut off their chat and stop walking. They back away, taking notice of the weapon in my hand and the murderous expression on my face. I turn around and continue walking, satisfied at their fear. So, this is how Careers are supposed to act. I may not care for anyone besides Clove, but… to tear apart someone, someone you don't even know, so bluntly and coldly.. it's childish and pathetic.

We progress a few miles further – checking behind trees and in bushes for tributes. Those that survived the Bloodbath seemed to have the good sense to flee. Apart from the alliance, eight tributes remain. When nightfall comes, we will find out whom.

I'm thrown from my daydreaming with a shout from Marvel. "District 12!" He yells. A blond-haired figure explodes from the cluster of trees to my left; running desperately away from us. I follow his pounding feet, cursing myself for not bringing a spear – throwing my sword will do me no good. Glimmer, Marvel, and I are gaining on him. "Glimmer!" I yell. "Your bow!" A second later an arrow flies through the air. It lodges itself in Peeta's arm and he falls, cursing. He tries to get up and continue running, but he falls back to the ground, clutching his leg and moaning in pain. He has twisted his ankle, or something of the sort. His face is covered in bruises, and blood spews from where he pulled the arrow out. "Where's your girlfriend?" I say. "Oh, I see – she rejected you and left you to die? How sad, Lover Boy," I say bitterly. I press my sword against his throat and he cowers, knowing it's too late to run. "We can share him.. let's have fun," I say, acknowledging Marvel and Glimmer's eager expressions and ready weapons. If Clove isn't here, and if sponsors are watching… what's the harm? "Wait!" He cries. "I want to join your alliance! I got an 8.. the same as two of you," He says.

I exchange glances with Glimmer and Marvel, and they shrug skeptically. "So, why should we keep you around? How did you get that 8?" I say. I return my sword to his chest – his eyes bulge in shock and before I can react, he pulls a knife from his jacket and throws it through the air. It lands 30 feet away and a dull thud echoes through the forest as it sticks in a tree. His skills can't compare to Clove's, but he's decent. We don't have use for him – but he's a link to Katniss. The girl with the 11. I think we'll see where having him as an alliance member goes. Perhaps he knows something about her, and if we keep him around long enough, we'll coax it out of him. "Fine," I say. He sighs in relief. I toss him a bandage and he wraps it around his arm in surprise. My intentions aren't kind – we can't have Katniss' love dying of infection, can we? If anything, we can use him as a trap… who knows? Even if his 'love' was a lie, she seems like the kind of person – from her interview, at least – that would believe it.

Nightfall comes and the Capitol anthem plays. As it finishes, the faces of the dead begin to appear in the sky. After all the dead have been shown; I carefully sort out who is left to hunt. The boy from 3. The girl from 5. The girl from 8. The boy from 10. Both from 11. Katniss. As the sky begins to grow darker, we stop and set up a temporary camp to rest at. Marvel takes first watch. I lay down against the base of a tree, feeling the cold forest floor beneath me. I wonder how Clove is doing – especially with that injury. I shiver. I miss feeling her warmth next to me as I sleep; and though I've gone without it thousands of times before, the coldness now feels incredibly lonely and alien. Sleep doesn't come easily to me – I lack trust for my allies; and knowing that thousands of people are watching me drains my body of fatigue.

It feels like I've only been asleep for minutes when a voice awakes me from my slumber. "Wake up, sleepyhead." Someone coos. I awake instantly. "Clove?" I say sleepily. My eyes snap open. Glimmer is hunched next to me, her face offended; Peeta watches me with curiosity; and Marvel towers over me, snickering. I leap up, holding my sword, and start moving. "Come on, we don't have time to waste," I growl, while they watch in shock at my speedy reaction. It's still dark, hours from dawn. I give Peeta matches to light a torch while the rest of us pull out our flashlights. Hunting will be twenty times harder now – but it's not worth it to turn back if we haven't found any tributes yet. They have to be somewhere.

We walk for a few hours, our journey tedious and slow. Shining flashlights at trees isn't a very effective way to find tributes – and any that may've be in our range have probably ended up spotting our lights and running away. Just as the sky begins to lighten slightly, meaning the dawn is coming and it's near time to turn back; I spot it. A bright orange flame, shocking against the dark canvas of the forest. Behind this flame lies a tribute, their eyes closed; oblivious that their death is only minutes away. I start to run, and the others follow me, by now having spotted the blaze.

We reach her in seconds, surrounding the tribute. It's a girl. "What District?" I say, not recognizing her. She's not Katniss – and she's not the little girl from 11, either. "8." Peeta pipes up, to my surprise. Her eyes snap open, and her initial confusion turns to terror. She raises her hands, pleading – she has no weapons. She doesn't stand a chance against the four of us. "Please! Please! Don't kill me!" She screeches, too shocked to even attempt an escape. Without hesitation, I shove my sword into her chest. She screams and clutches the gaping wound beside her heart, tears streaming down her face. "Nice one, Cato. You did take a kill from me – but, dang, I'll let it go. That was hilarious. What a wimp." Marvel says, laughing. "Yeah – that was great, Cato! Please! Please! Don't kill meeeee!" Glimmer mocks, joining in on Marvel's laughter. "Twelve down and eleven to go!" She adds, giggling. I nod and smile, accepting the congratulations. This girl didn't stand a chance – she started a fire in the middle of a dark forest. If we hadn't gotten her, someone else would have. We check her for supplies or weapons. She has nothing but a set of matches and a slingshot. "Nothing," I say. I laugh and toss the slingshot away. What good is that against a sword – or any sort of weapon, actually? "She wasn't even clever enough to build a fire without matches," Glimmer chuckles, tucking the matches into her backpack. "Well – clearly she lacked any form of intelligence, considering she built a fire in the middle of the night," I say. My comment draws laughter from everyone.

"Better clear out so they can get the body before it starts stinking," I say, knowing that sponsors expect me to live up to my role of an idiotic, cruel killer. Comments like this are key to prove my ruthlessness. "Shouldn't we have heard a cannon by now?" Marvel says, glancing back at the body uncertainly. "I'd say yes. Nothing to prevent them from going in immediately," I say. "Unless she isn't dead," Marvel says, gazing at the bloody sword in my hands. "She's dead. I stuck her myself." I say. Who survives having a sword slammed into their chest? Maybe she hasn't quite bled out. "Someone should go back. Make sure the job's done." Glimmer says uneasily, picking up on the tension between Marvel and I. "Yeah, we don't want to have to track her down twice." Marvel agrees. "I said she's dead!" I growl. Why should we retreat a few yards, just to prove what I already know? Maybe her heart hasn't stopped yet, but there's no way she's surviving with the wound I inflicted. "Do you see this sword?" I say, waving it in Marvel's face. "It's soaked in blood! She's dead – she just needs time to bleed out," He flinches and steps back. "How do you know?" He snarls. "Watch, we'll never hear a cannon. We're going to find her in a few hours, alive and well; with her chest hardly bleeding." His voice is accusing. "I told – she's dead. We're moving on, and when the cannon fires in a minute, you'll be proven wrong." I say. "Watch-," He starts to say, when his voice is cut off. "We're wasting time! I'll go finish her and let's move on!" Peeta says, his voice exasperated. I had almost forgotten he was a member of this alliance. I turn to him in surprise, and he meets my gaze unwaveringly. "Go on, then, Lover Boy," I say. "See for yourself," He nods and heads away from us, back to the girl. Now, he'll prove if he's an actual member of this alliance – if he does finish her, he can stay; if he tries to run… he's dead.

"Why don't we just kill him now and get it over with?" Glimmer murmurs, as soon as he's far enough. "Let him tag along. What's the harm? And he's handy with that knife," I say, mirroring her tone. "Besides, he's our best chance of finding her." If Katniss really does love Peeta… we may be able to lure her in. Even if she doesn't, Peeta is bound to know more about her than the rest of us. Even basic, district-partner knowledge is useful in this situation. "Why? You think she bought into that sappy romance stuff?" Glimmer whispers. Before I can respond, Marvel speaks. "She might have. Seemed pretty simpleminded to me. Every time I think about her spinning around in that dress, I want to puke." I nod my agreement. "Wish we knew how she got that eleven." He adds. "Bet you Lover Boy knows," I murmur. Peeta approaches us, and we halt our conversation. "Was she dead?" I say. "No, but she is now," He says. The cannon fires. "Ready to move on?" He says, his voice thick with authority. I examine him skeptically. Did he kill her – or is it a coincidence that her cannon fired so quickly after he headed back? His knife isn't out, and no blood stains his clothes. I decide not to ponder it – as long as there is one less competitor to worry about, it doesn't matter how they died.

"Let's run!" Glimmer says, giggling. "That pathetic little girl's death has energized me – plus, look, it's almost daylight!" The dawn is coming, meaning visibility in the forest is again possible – and with light comes increased productivity as far as hunting goes. We start to jog, trees flying by as we race along.

We comb through the forest for a few more hours, finding no trace of life. Frustrated that we've found no one – especially Katniss – I halt our search party. Without warning, I spin around and press my sword against Peeta's chest. "Tell us, now. What you know… about her," I say. I'm speaking about Katniss, of course. I have no use for Peeta – his knife skills are slack and pathetic compared to Clove's, and out of everyone in our alliance, he's the weakest. Katniss is the only reason we need him and it's no use to keep him around if we're not benefiting from it. "S-She, uh…," He splutters, staring at the blade in terror. "Her father is the butcher, in District 12; her uncle is a lumberjack." He starts to say. "A lumberjack? In District 12?" I say. District 12 is the coal district – and I vaguely recall learning that any forestry the District has is fenced off, so the starved population can't escape their crummy home. District 7 specializes in lumber. "Uh, well – he makes furniture for the whole District." He says. "Everyone in my District knows Katniss. She works for both her uncle and her father – she chopped down trees for her uncle and killed animals for her father," He finishes, his hands shaky and his voice nervous. "Continue," I say, examining his terrified expression. I don't know if I should trust him, take his words for fact. He doesn't gain anything by lying.. but if he really does love her, he's not telling the truth. "Her weapon of choice is an ax. She's been swinging one around for years – Johanna Mason is her idol, but she's far too arrogant to copy Johanna. She always bragged to everyone in town, about how she was training for the Games and was going to volunteer. Her sister being reaped was killing two birds with one stone," He says. "If she's so arrogant, why didn't I see her with an ax during training?" I growl. Peeta hesitates, a panicked look on his face. "Er… uh… oh! She didn't want you to ask her to join your alliance. She wants to win on her own; she wants the glory all to herself. She wants to say that no one helped her win – I mean, if she was in your alliance, everyone would think that she was leeching off of you. Her being from 12, you all being from 1, 2, and 4." He says. I pull my blade away from his chest. "If you're lying…," I make a swiping motion across my neck.

He nods in relief, his breathing uneven and loud. Killing him now is a possibility – but if he's knowledgeable enough to tell us what her skill is, there may be more we can pry from him. If I can gain his trust, who knows what he'll tell me about the girl with the 11?

We continue searching, as though nothing has happened. I reflect on my first full day here – Clove is alive. I am alive. This, enough, equals success to me. Only 11 must die until Clove can get out of here. That's what keeps me going.

Clove POV

(So this doesn't confuse anyone – I'm continuing this POV from where Clove's last POV left off.)

I wait for my dying wound – my curiosity about death far overpowering my fear. And, then, the weight on my chest is lifted off. For a second, I think that Ethan has adjusted his position – perhaps to get a better aim as he shoves the knife into my skin – but as I hear a panicked voice say my name, I am proven otherwise. Cato. "Cato..," I say, opening my eyes. "Cato." The one I love has saved me. He has saved me, though it's the last thing I deserve. If he hadn't.. I'd be dead, and Ethan victorious. He towers over me, his expression a mix of horror and relief. Without hesitating, he slashes the ropes and I'm free. Before I can stop myself, I throw myself into his arms and bury my face in his shoulder. "Cato…," I murmur. As I realize what I am doing, I pull away. What do I want to do? Keep him in my arms and never let go. Tell him 'I love you' a thousand times. What must I do? Pretend I don't care and that I'm nothing more than a grateful, pleasantly surprised ally. "Thank you for saving me," I say, trying to strip the emotion from my voice. "Your wound..," He says, and I can see the hurt reflected in his eyes. "It's not deep," I say. I'm lucky – the knife hardly broke the skin, and though the wound stings, it doesn't pose a serious threat to me. "I'm sure I can find some disinfectant and bandages in the Cornucopia." I say, guiltily leaving him before I can witness anymore of the unhappiness on his face. Right as I'm about to search for something to quell the bleeding from my injury with, cannons start to ring out. I count carefully. Eleven in all, meaning twelve more tributes must be killed before a victor is crowned.

I hear footsteps behind me, recognizing them as Cato's. "What happened?" He asks. Should I tell him? What happened to me was due to exceptionally poor judgment on my part, and having Panem be fully aware of my near-defeat is shameful enough. Having Cato – the one person whose opinion I actually value – know everything that went on between Ethan and I will be painfully embarrassing. I'm a trained Career, and my life was almost ended by a deluded, unskilled, child. But, since Cato saved me, he deserves the truth. Maybe, after he learns the full story, his opinion of me will be further decreased – making him care less for me, strengthening what I did this morning.

"I..," I start to say and my voice breaks. I clear my throat and try again; hoping I'm strong enough to tell him everything. "I made an awful decision," I say. "The effort of the Bloodbath and lack of sleep got to me. I tried my best to stay awake – but after a while of my yawning, Ethan told me to get some rest and reassured me that he'd be fine," I say. "I heeded his words – I trusted him, and I thought some rest would clear my head. He managed to tie me up while I was asleep – I guess years of net-weaving in 4 made his hands nimble and skilled. When I woke up, he had me pinned down. I tried to fight – but I couldn't break free of the rope and without my hands I'm useless." I say. "If he had just stabbed me in my sleep, one of those eleven cannons would be for me. But he wanted to have fun. He taunted me – he said he'd kill you and be the next Finnick Odair. Thank you, Cato. If you had come only a few minutes later…," I say. "I know how pathetic it is that he nearly managed to kill me, after my life of training. I owe everything to you." I finish, my cheeks burning; too ashamed to meet his eyes. "It's not your fault – you trusted your ally, and he happened to be a psychopath. You couldn't have foreseen that.. don't be hard on yourself, in any other situation you could've killed him," He says. I gape in shock – he should be smirking and laughing at my failure. But yet – after all I have done – he spares me compassion I don't deserve. As much as I want to uphold my act, my heart is not cold enough to ignore his unwavering love and loyalty. I throw my arms around him and he strokes my hair. My heart melts and desire pulses through my body. His life, Clove. Are you really selfish enough to put what you want over his life? I repeat the words in my head and pull away from him. I leave him, alone in the Cornucopia.

I join Thalia where she sits, on the base of the Cornucopia. Seeing my wound, she tosses me a bandage. I smile gratefully at her and wrap it around my neck. The bandage is thin – but the material seems like it is decent enough to soak up a good amount of blood. Cato emerges from the Cornucopia after a few minutes, clutching his sword. A few faint splatters of blood stain the silver blade – particularly near its edge. "Clove, Thalia, stay here and guard camp; the rest of us are going tribute hunting." He says. "But-," I start to say. I have done nothing for this alliance, as of yet – and I'd like to prove to Panem that I'm not a defenseless weakling. I want to prove to the world that I deserved my 10 – and how can I do so, stuck at camp? Cato cuts me off. "Your neck is still bleeding.. you should stay here, to recover from the shock," He says. My wound is nothing compared to what I've seen tributes cope with in previous Hunger Games', but I don't need to make myself appear childish by engaging in an argument I won't win. "You're right, I suppose.. have bountiful hunting," I say. "Thank you," He says, his voice devoid of feeling.

As I watch Cato's retreating figure, I make a promise to myself. I have to stop slipping up. I can't keep showing emotion towards him – if I want him to believe what I said this morning, if I want any care he holds for me to drain away, I have to act coldly and rudely. Obviously, with the way things are going now – he won't be able to move on after my death. I need him to leave this arena sadness-free and regret-free. Correction – I just need him to leave this arena, and with time, heal and live his life to the fullest.

I know the hours I must wait until Cato comes back won't pass quickly. To avoid thinking painful thoughts, I keep my mind occupied. I rummage through the Cornucopia, seeking better treatment for my wound. I find a small pot of clear lotion, and though I'm not completely sure what it is, I rub some over my neck. The slight burning sensation I have been feeling fades and I trace my finger uncertainly across my wound. The open, bleeding gash that was there only seconds ago is now a healed, smooth scab. I clutch the tiny container in shock – you would never find such advanced medicine in the Districts. I head to the lake, wash the blood from my clothing and knives, and take the opportunity to fill multiple canteens with water. I head back to the Cornucopia, take a backpack, and shove everything useful I can find into it. In go the containers of water, the tiny canister of medicine, some small rations of food, a first aid kit, matches, a flashlight and bandages. As I carefully examine everything I come across, trying to pin a use on some of the odd items I find; I pick up a set of sunglasses. A half dozen are sealed into a clear plastic package. I'm struck with the urge to laugh – why would something so superficial be in the Cornucopia? Is this a sign that the arena will soon be struck with blistering heat? I tear open the package and inspect the glasses further. As I do, something in my brain clicks and I gasp. These are night vision glasses – I can't quite remember where I learned about them, whether it be by watching a previous Games or by being taught, but I'm glad that I have recognized them. They're glasses that enable your vision in darkness to mirror your vision in the daylight. They'll make doing anything in the arena at night effortless. I tuck three pairs into my backpack – one for myself, one for Cato, one extra. After stuffing a few other cans of (what I believe to be) medicine into my backpack, I decide I am done. I feel refreshed, confident – I have knives, and decent, life-saving supplies. I am at a very high advantage, compared to tributes who escaped from the Bloodbath with nothing.

I take time to familiar myself with the arena. There's the lake, the forest – and down a long downward slope, there lies a field. Splashes of different colored long grass – or crops, maybe – stretch over most of it. The grass must be taller than I am, and just peering at it gives me the chills. I don't want to know what creatures the grass hides.

Heading back to the Cornucopia, I sit down beside Thalia. She's faced towards the forest, watching it. "Did you see any tributes head into the long grass?" I say. She pauses. "Yes, the male from District 11. Hard not to notice him – he's the biggest out of all the tributes, apart from Cato, maybe," She says. We sit in silence, staring at the forest until night begins to fall. With night, come the faces of the dead. The anthem plays and then drains away. The faces of the dead begin to appear - the girl from District 3, the one I saw Marvel kill. The first one dead. Ethan – as I stare at his photo, his innocently smiling face; I expect to feel pity. But.. it doesn't come. It's hard to mourn the person that nearly murdered you and threatened to also murder the one person you love. Alas.. he probably wouldn't have turned into such a monster had he not been reaped.

The District 5 boy appears.. Cato's kill. Both from District 6. Both from District 7. As their faces appear, I'm struck dumb with horror. I killed them… I am the reason that they no longer exist. I tell myself not to break and remind myself that, wherever they are, they are at peace. Forgive me. I think, hoping that, somehow, they can hear me. The boy from District 8 shows up; and both from 9. The 9 boy's death is easier to cope with – I didn't face him, he didn't realize that he was going to die. I threw a knife at his unsuspecting self, striking his back. The girl from 10 is the last to appear and the images remain for a few seconds before fading away. I bow my head, knowing that my image could've just as easily been in the sky tonight, if not for Cato…

"It's unfortunate that your District partner died so early in the Games," I say to Thalia. She stares at me in surprise. My words are the Capitol-proof version of 'I'm sorry'. After all, Careers are not supposed to show grief or sorrow at the death of others…

She seems to decode my words. "It is unfortunate, yes." She murmurs. "I didn't care for him, but he was very young… and so weak. I'm surprised that no one volunteered for him.. actually, scratch that, I'm disappointed. I'd love to have a handsome, strong hero like Cato." She says, smiling slightly. "I-It's not… we don't care for each other in that way anymore," I say. She raises her eyebrows. "You two struck me as genuine – I don't believe in fairy tale love, but you two exuded care for each other. It was sweet..," She says, and winks. I wonder if she's being sarcastic – but from her tone of voice and facial expression, I trust that I can take her words for the truth. "Fairytales have happy endings," I growl. She looks taken aback. "I'm sorry," I say quickly. She shrugs. "I love him," I say – I don't care if all of Panem is listening to me. "Love is a very strong word," She says, avoiding my gaze while she polishes the knife gripped in her hand. "I know, it seems ridiculous from the outside. I know he's… right. It's hard to explain, but.. I adore him with every fiber of my being and I'd give up my life for him. He's everything to me." I say. "I'd doubt it.. but.. having seen you two together..," She stops her sentence and tilts her head. "If you love him, why the iciness between you?" She says. "I broke it off with him before the Games. I don't want his care for me to influence his decisions in the arena," I plan my words carefully. I may trust Thalia enough to speak to her – but I cannot forget that she is another tribute, another person competing against Cato and me to win the Hunger Games. To say, "I'm getting Cato out of this arena," would be a poor decision. "You're a strong person," She says, her voice admiring. "But he doesn't seem to have gotten the message… you should've seen the way he reacted when he heard you yell… he tore through the forest, nothing stopping him," I press my knees to my chest. "I know – I wish it wasn't like this, and it's certainly painful.. but it's for the best," I say.

The sky darkens and I feel myself become sleepy. "I'll take the first watch," Thalia says. Noticing my reluctant expression, she laughs. "Don't worry – I'm not brave enough to attack you in your sleep and subject myself to the brunt of Cato's wrath. I'm not sleepy – I'll wake you up in a few hours." She says. Oddly enough, I trust her. Our conversation about Cato has forged something between us – not friendship, necessarily; but a small amount of trust.

I grab a sleeping bag and settle myself inside it. As I close my eyes, exhaustion overcomes me.

Sweet dreams, Cato, wherever in the arena you may be..