I hope you all like this chapter. Things will start progressing from here on out! I feel like I might be taking things a bit too slow? PLease tell me what you think about it all in your reviews.
Enjoy!
Cato POV
I never knew how important she was until I almost lost her. I need her here with me to keep me sane, and to give me a friend. Call it whatever you want: cliche, fast, impossible... I've been using the same words. I'm crazy, aren't I? Yet the more I grew to the feeling of having her here, the more I became to realize every moment she'd smile or laugh, my stomach would knot. At first, I thought I wasn't eating enough, so for a few days, I'd pig out on fish and coconut milk. I have to admit, it wasn't bad; just a bit warm for my taste. The stream was where I'd gather water for drinking and the salt water would serve purpose for the bathing.
But as the knotting grew more and more intense, I now fully understand what it is. It's not the food I eat or the water I bathe in, or even the clothes I wear. It's... her. Her smile, her laugh, her voice, her hair... it was plainly her.
Katniss.
It was weird, because the last time I've ever felt this was years ago, when girls were becoming proper ladies and started to wear the corsets and junk. I remember a memory of me when I was eight trying to fit into my mother's corset and I spat on it, wondering how they could fit inside. Katniss didn't wear a corset; in fact, she wore plain black pantaloons and a slightly ripped leather vest that shows mere traces of her back, covered in scars.
I've always wondered where she's gotten them; when I helped heal her small wounds from the time she arrived here, I noticed long, white scars engulfing her bare back. Was it a bad fall? No, no she would've gotten less damage, depending on the fall. A rabid animal? The thoughts rang in my head as I was beside the bedroom window, looking out at the night sky. It was a habit every since the night we talked on the beach. She asked me if I could make a bow, so there I was, sitting down and carving one with my only knife.
As of right now, I have the notches and rim done, now moving on with the engravings. I wanted to make this special, because for some reason, I needed to prove to her I could do something that isn't just killing. I've murdered the barracuda and the cannibals to help her out of harms way, which I guess is a bonus when you're figuring out you might have feelings for someone you're stuck on an island with.
I've always have feelings for her. Different kind of feelings at the time but now, they've adapted to her presence. I see her in a different light. And it freaks me out a bit. I take that back.
A lot.
Katniss' soft breathing continues throughout the night as I carve the bow, preparing to hide it if I don't finish by morning. I had to finish it; I just had to. The fire in her eyes gave me determination to finish it. I will finish it.
Cato, stop it. My minds keeps telling me useless commands. I've remembered the last time I've cared for someone was when I was thirteen and my family died. The only people I loved? Gone. And it killed me. My mother was loving. My father was brave. My brothers? Eh, they were brothers. But they were family, and I loved them for that. Now these feelings are scaring me because when they were present, death was in the air.
I've had enough of death for a lifetime.
Taking the knife and dragging it against the wood, I apply more pressure to curve the bow, angling it perfectly so it comes out flat. You're just doing this as a favor. It's just a favor for being here. You're not feeling anything towards her accept friendship. Cato, stop. Everything pounds in my head like a headache-nonstop and painful.
The moon comes out from a thin cloud and the sand reflects against it, giving it a silver hue. Silver. Just like her eyes.
Cato, what have you gotten yourself into? You can't love another. You'll just hurt Katniss like you did your family. You're the reason they're dead. I set down the unfinished bow and open my chest. In the bright natural light of the luna, I can barely make out a golden necklace, etched with a symbol. But not just any symbol.
It was a mockingjay, wrapped in a ring while the arrow is connected by its beak and the opposite side of the rim. On the back is an engraving that I can't read, but I know it had something to do with the fire. A ship came after us that day. The cannons were loud and the sound bounced off the water, carrying it for miles.
The man, the one with the white beard stood maliciously in the other boat, his black diamonds on his rings glistening in the flames from our now burning ship. Fire and water, they say, is a way to die in sin. You've committed treacherous deeds that the lord has punished you for. I escaped my punishment and dived into the water, after much pleading of my father, who was bent over my bleeding brothers and mother. They were shot by the other ship, the bullets meeting their abdomens and killing them slowly. I cried when my father was beheaded by the overtaken ship, after I had dove into the water with our chest.
That dark night haunts me. Their lifeless faces. Their blood-soaked bodies. It scares me and now I realize: that was all my fault.
When we were working in the bakery at home, the king Coriolanus was visiting, having to ask my father a question. The man let down his cane which held the pennant, the gold item I have int front of me now. Wanting to buy my family a feast, I stole it, ripping it off his cane. The man didn't notice until after a while, when I figured it was useless and kept it.
Oh, how wrong of a decision that was.
As we were leaving for a new land we had to deliver bread and pastries to, he came. It was while we were at sea that his ship attacked ours for the pennant, and I held onto it, refusing to let it go. And at that moment, I granted my parents' death warrant. They were murdered freshly in front of my eyes.
I tuck the pennant away. It brought up too much for me to handle, and I certainly would NOT cry at this moment. Not now. Not ever.
I was sealed off for the first year. Grouchy, stupid, and full of vengeance, I had taken out any plant or animal in my way, having found that one knife we kept inside the chest. Then for the remainder of the four years, I've learned to cope with the grief and planned to start anew.
No more trips. No more family. No more love.
Why is it I'm so troubled by her? I wasn't last week, or the week before. But why now?
The first sun-rays appear and I trek outside the cabin to put away the bow.
Cato, what have you gotten yourself into?
Sorry, PLEASE tell me if I'm going too slow or too fast. Katniss is one of the strong-headed characters, so she doesn't like him or anyone like that for the time being.
Did you like Cato's confession? His dark secrets? And what about the pennant? What does it mean if Snow wanted it so badly?
We'll find out, soon hopefully.
Please, tell me what you thought!
~HeyoMyFellowReaders101
