Know Your Enemy - Chapter 10
The sun slowly clawed its way towards the horizon line and the black of the night faded to grey, the moon still hanging eerily among the clouds as if it had forgotten to fall down. Peeta woke up feeling warm, rested and comfortable, rubbing his bleary eyes awake then blinking back against the soft light of the morning. Turning to look around him, he was surprised how soft the tree root he had slept on felt against his head.
Clove was still beside him, her face pale and sunken, dark shadows encircling her eyes. She shuddered in her sleep every now and again, a light sheen of sweat building on her forehead. He stared at her blankly for a moment, then realised with a jolt that he was meant to be helping her. He was meant to be awake and helping her.
Sitting up slowly so as not to wake her, he glanced around for Cato. The other boy sat close by the fire in just a t-shirt, staring pensively into the burning embers in front of him. It looked like he hadn't moved a muscle since the other two had fallen asleep the night before.
Straightening out his stiff limbs, Peeta climbed to his feet. His muscles were still too relaxed and heavy to carry his weight properly, making him stumble clumsily as he approached the other boy. Cato looked up, smiling a little when he caught sight of him, which was definitely an encouraging sign.
"Hey," Peeta whispered, sitting down beside him. "I'm sorry I overslept. Why didn't you wake me up? We were meant to trade shifts after a couple of hours."
"You looked tired," Cato shrugged easily. "I figured I'd just take the other shift, too. I don't think I could've slept anyway. I guess you can owe me for it later."
"Yeah, okay. Sure thing. I'll take watch tonight," Peeta agreed. He couldn't help but think that it was weird how their relationship swung from one extreme to the other. It could be explosive, angry, out of control one day and the next it could be quiet and calm, as natural as breathing.
Watching the other boy, he wondered if he felt equally lost when it came to understanding their uneasy alliance. Probably. Cato was really bad with emotional stuff, found it difficult to process anything more complex than anger or excitement, adrenaline. It's not that he couldn't, it's just that more often than not he didn't want to. Peeta could understand that.
"Hey, why aren't you wearing your jacket?" he blurted suddenly, noticing the boy's bare arms and close proximity to the flames. "It's cold, aren't you freezing out here in just your shirt?"
Cato blushed at this, looking away and mumbling something quietly under his breath about being fine and not needing a stupid jacket anyway. Peeta looked around, utterly bemused until he spotted the bundle of material bunched up on the floor next to Clove's head in the spot he had recently vacated.
Thinking back, he remembered being surprised at how soft the ground felt when he first woke up. Cato must have rolled his jacket up and tucked it under his head at some point during the night, letting the boy use it as a makeshift pillow. Something warm spread its way to Peeta's stomach as he realised this, and he couldn't stop the grin from forming on his face.
"Thank you," he said. "You didn't have to do that." Retrieving the jacket quickly, he handed it back to an extremely embarrassed Cato, who tugged it straight back on.
"Shut up, I was just… uh. I just put it there because I didn't want to wear it any more." Peeta rolled his eyes at the blatant lie, but nodded anyway, knowing there was no point in trying to argue with him. Cato seemed pleased with this response, the blush fading from his cheeks as he let himself look at the other boy once again. "We'll need to be leaving here fairly soon if we want to get to the feast early enough to get our stuff and get the hell out of there. If we don't, someone might take our pack or something, and then we'd be screwed."
It was weird hearing the other boy make the plans for the day. Usually it was Clove who ordering everyone around, constantly keeping them organized and on schedule. In that sense, at times she reminded him of Effie, always punctual. Maybe that's why Peeta liked her so much.
"Okay, that sounds good. I'll go and find us something to eat for breakfast." Cato looked like he was about to protest, but Peeta cut him off before he could. "Relax, I'll only take a minute. I won't go far, I promise. Just build up the fire and wake up Marvel while I'm gone. That way, we can leave as soon as we finish eating."
After a moment Cato nodded his agreement, albeit grudgingly, and Peeta smiled. "I'll see you soon," he said, reaching for his sword and heading out into the trees.
"Whatever," Cato replied, feigning indifference. His eyes told a different story, though, not leaving the other boy's back until he'd completely disappeared from sight.
When Peeta returned, two freshly caught rabbits in hand, he wasn't entirely unsurprised to be greeted by the sight of a scowling Marvel. The boy seemed to permanently exist in some kind of dissatisfied state as of late, strutting around wearing that disgusted expression as if someone had forced his precious spear up his butthole.
A little way away, Cato was adding more branches and leaves to their fire. He smiled over at Peeta when their eyes met, sparing him a little wave. Marvel scoffed.
Deciding to make himself useful, Peeta pulled the smaller knife he carried out from his pocket and sat down on the floor, attempting to skin the rabbit in the same way he'd seen Clove do it the day before. Easier said than done. It was messy, blood splattering everywhere and guts spilling out onto the floor as he carved his way into the rabbit, searching desperately for the fleshy chunks of meat that the girl had found and cooked for them.
Ahead of him, he heard someone chuckle softly and he looked up to meet Cato's amused eyes once again. He was closer than Peeta thought, basically hovering over him, eyebrow quirked at the sight of the boy's apparent lack of skills in this department. He huffed indignantly. At least he was trying here.
Suddenly Cato was sitting down opposite him, his long legs crossing beneath him into a position that made him look strangely childish. "Here, let me show you," he said softly, reaching for the other rabbit and pulling out a knife of his own. He cut a careful slice into the side of the body, his technique the same as the one Clove had used the day before, and with just a few more careful flicks of the blade, a thick hunk of the tender flesh was exposed.
Struggling, Peeta's already poor attempts simply became clumsier still as he attempted to keep up with the other boy. Noticing this, Cato began to laugh. "On second thoughts, you'd probably better just let me do it." Peeta playfully scowled at him, handing over what was left of the butchered rabbit.
"Aren't you meant to be good at stuff like this?" Cato asked as he worked on the other rabbit, sounding genuinely curious. "I thought you do it with your father back in your District?"
"No, my dad's a baker, not a butcher." The reply was simple enough, but somehow the other boy only looked more confused by it, like he didn't understand the difference. "Bakers don't cut up animals, they just… Well, they bake things, I guess, like bread or cakes and buns, even pies and tarts sometimes, when they have the money."
"Oh, right, I think I get it." He pulled a face. "So you just bake cakes? Wow. That's not even half as manly as I imagined it to be when you said you were a baker." Peeta laughed at this, grinning over at the other boy affectionately.
"Okay, I'm done with these," Cato declared suddenly, breaking the moment as he tossed the broken remains of the animals to one side and skewering the raw chunks of meat on a sharp piece of wood from their spit. He propped it up over the fire, leaving it to cook there while he finished getting himself prepared for the feast that would begin in a matter of hours.
The sun was peeking out through the trees now, streaking vivid oranges, yellows and pinks across the otherwise crystal blue sky. It was so beautiful it seemed completely out of place here in an arena for a game that was so barbaric. Quickly arming himself with the best of the weapons that remained after the blast, Peeta sighed.
When the hell had all his thoughts gotten so morbid and depressing?
"We'll be back in a couple of hours," Cato told Marvel for the fiftieth time. "Don't even think about going anywhere. You stay right here and you guard Clove, you hear me? If anything happens to her, I will hunt you down and make you pay. I'll fucking kill you."
"I know," the boy rolled his eyes. "We've been over this a million times before. I've got it, okay? Stay here, look after Clove, and don't do anything else. It's not exactly challenging. If you're going, then for god's sake just go already!"
Cato looked like he wanted to protest, to stay and lecture the other boy a little more, but Peeta intervened before he could. "C'mon," he said, tugging on his sleeve. "We've got to go now or we'll be too late. The feast starts in a couple of hours."
"Fine." He sighed, knowing that Peeta was right. They had to leave now or they wouldn't be able to help Clove. "Let's go. You make sure you fucking watch yourself, Marble."
With that, sword in hand, he turned and flounced away into the trees, heading towards the Cornucopia once more. Peeta hurried after him, trying hard not to laugh.
Crouching in a bush, concealed by the thick green leaves, the two boys sat eagerly in wait. Every so often they would shift, move their legs, making sure their muscles didn't stiffen out too much to prevent them from running fast. They about a hundred meters or so away from the Cornucopia, not too far, but not close enough to ensure that they'd be the first ones there, either. Not with Thresh as an opponent.
It was strange to think that everyone (or, at least, the majority of the Tributes remaining) were gathered here, watching, waiting, praying that this wouldn't be the place where they died but knowing they needed the gifts from the Capitol to survive. It felt almost like the first day again, poised on the podium, getting ready to run like hell as soon as it was safe to do so.
The clearing was small and every sound from the rustle of a leaf to a twig snapping underfoot could be heard. It was vital to stay as quiet as possible. At the centre of it, the Cornucopia looked the same as ever, a glittering golden horn that seemed so out of place in the middle of a field so plain and simple. The one vital difference today was the table that sat in front of its mouth. No doubt this would be where the gifts appeared from as soon as Seneca Crane cued their release.
"Peeta," Cato whispered from beside him, quietly capturing the other boy's attention. "As soon as the feast starts, I'm going to run in and grab the stuff. You wait back here for me unless I need you, okay?"
"What?" Peeta exclaimed in an overly loud voice, and the other boy shushed him with an irritated glare. "No way," he hissed, quieter this time. "I'm not letting you run out there on your own. What if something happens to you?"
"It won't, don't doubt me so much. I am pretty strong, you know." Cato gave him a small reassuring smile before continuing. "There's no point in both of us risking our lives, right? I'm a faster runner than you and I'd be able to get over there quicker, so it only makes sense for it to be me. Anyway, if something went wrong and I got caught up, it wouldn't take you a second to get out there and come and help me."
"Fine, I guess that makes sense." There wasn't much point in arguing because he knew that this was the most logical way to do things, but Peeta still wasn't happy with it. "You just want me to come and save you again, don't you?" he teased, and Cato growled, playfully punching him in the arm.
Then the all-too familiar anthem began to blare out, drawing their attention back to the task at hand. "Attention, attention Tributes!" came the cheerful call of the Head Gamemaker. "The feast will commence in a few minutes, just as soon as the gifts appear on the table. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favour."
This sobered the two boys instantly as they both became alert, all of their attention focused towards their goal. Cato shook out his muscles one final time, leaning forwards, poised to run. Peeta armed himself with his sword, knowing his only duty here was to defend his ally. For some reason, this was even more nerve wracking to him than if he was the one risking his life.
Squinting at the table, Peeta could just about make out the way four large backpacks rose up from beneath and settled on four podiums which protruded out from the top. A second later, Cato was gone and a heavy sense of dread settled in Peeta's stomach.
He was so preoccupied with watching Cato's progress towards the golden horn that he almost missed a bright head of flaming hair emerging from within the Cornucopia, snatching up a backpack and darting off into the trees before anyone could stop her. Foxface. Damn it, since when was she so clever? Maybe they had underestimated her.
Cato was the next to arrive at the table, grabbing the pack marked with a large number two. He instantly turned to run back, not even sparing a glance over his shoulder to check that no one was behind him. That meant he didn't see Thresh approaching, large machete wielded firmly in hand. Terrified, Peeta wanted to call out a warning to the boy, but that would do nothing but alert the rest of the Tributes to his location.
If he did that, Cato would kill him.
Luckily the boy from Eleven seemed to want his supplies more than he wanted to kill Cato, reaching out for them and then tearing off into the trees in much the same manner as Foxface had, not even bothering to pursue the other boy. When Cato arrived back, panting and a little pink in the face, Peeta had to physically restrain himself from doing stupid like hugging him.
The feast hadn't exactly been the bloodbath they had been expecting, and Peeta would be willing to bet anything that the people back home in the Capitol felt a little cheated. It was practically unheard of for Tributes to meet at this stage in the Games and not even attempt to attack one another. Now there was only one pack left on the table, marked with a Twelve. It had to be Katniss and Rue's, but they appeared to be nowhere in sight.
Cato outstretched his fist and Peeta stared at it, confused for a moment until he remembered that this was a sign of respect or something back in District Two and bumped their knuckles together, grinning. The other boy smiled back triumphantly, throwing an arm over Peeta's shoulders as they began to make their way back to camp together, barely able to conceal their excitement. They were going to save Clove.
They were barely half way there when they heard the familiar boom of the cannon.
There were only seven Tributes left, five not including the two of them. It could be any one of them. It could be Clove. Panicking, they both broke into a sprint, the cheerful atmosphere between them immediately inverting itself into one of dread.
It was obvious as soon as they reached clearing that something was amiss. For one thing, Marvel was absent, and a ghostly silence had settled over the place, the air so stagnant and still that it seemed almost impossible that someone else could be there.
Each of them began calling out Clove's name, their voices became increasingly frantic as they were met with no response. Neither wanted to believe it was her, that she was dead. It couldn't be Clove, not now, so they searched relentlessly.
Then Peeta found her over by the remains of that morning's fire, body broken and eyes wide in terror, stomach punctured with a sword and throat slit. At least it had been quick. Choking back his horrified sob, he reached down gently closed her eyes so that it looked less like she was dead and more like she was asleep. He couldn't change the fact that she was surrounded by a pool of her own blood, though, nor could he clear the red stains from her porcelain skin.
He hadn't even had the chance to say goodbye to her, to thank her for all she'd done.
The other boy appeared at his side, cursing loudly as he caught sight of his friend. He knelt down by her side, taking one of her cold palms between two of his own. "Clove," he choked, tears slipping down his cheeks. "Come on, Clove, wake up. Wake up, this isn't funny. You can't just leave me here like this. You can't leave me."
"Cato," Peeta mumbled, but found he didn't have the words to say. Nothing could make this any easier. There's no consolation to losing a friend. Crouching down beside him, Peeta placed a tentative arm on the boy's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "She's gone, Cato."
"Don't." He shook his head vehemently. "Don't say that. She isn't gone, she can't be."
So Peeta said nothing, just pulled the boy in closer.
In his mind, Peeta found himself playing out different scenarios, trying to figure out which had killed her. The wound was from a sword, not an arrow from Katniss or Marvel's spear, which ruled out two of the possible five killers, and somehow he doubted that Rue and Foxface would have been capable of such brutality. That just left Thresh, the boy who had attended the feast. He must have run straight here after he saw that Cato was occupied, seeing his window of opportunity to wipe out his opposition and grabbing it.
If they'd just been a bit quicker, ran back a bit faster, killed the boy at the Cornucopia, maybe she wouldn't be dead.
They stayed like that for a few minutes, Cato clutching the girls dead hand between his fingers and Peeta holding him tight, each saying good bye in their own way to the girl that had helped them so much, given them so much. She had been their friend.
Balling up his hand into a fist, Cato fiercely wiped the tears from his eyes. "She wouldn't want me to be weak," he muttered, talking to himself more than Peeta. "She wouldn't want me to cry." Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to the girl's forehead before whispering a quiet "Goodnight, Clove."
After a moment, Peeta did the same to her hand, then zipped her jacket up to hide the ugly wound. There was nothing more they could do. She was gone. Without further ado, the two got up and collected up their supplies and weapons to take with them on the next journey. They wouldn't be able to face coming back here again.
As they were walking away, they looked back at the hovercraft that was carting away the dead girl. Peeta pressed his fingers to his lips and raised them in the three-fingered salute of respect and farewell. Cato copied him, and for the first time they looked at each other. They both had tears streaming down their face, and neither cared about how weak it would make them appear to the audience.
"She's okay now." Peeta whispered. "She's okay."
Cato's face pulled into an expression not unlike pain as he forced himself to let go of the smart, clever, funny girl from his District that made him open up like no one else could. She'd always be his best friend, but he had to let her go. Peeta's expression mimicked Cato's as he did the same, then he enveloped Cato in a hug that both of them needed desperately.
They clung to each other, and Peeta could feel hot tears spilling out onto his neck as Cato attempted to hide his face from the cameras. Running a soothing hand through the boy's hair, he murmured a chorus of 'it's okay, we're gonna be okay' over and over, repeating it like a mantra. As they parted, Cato's hand made his way into Peeta's, like he needed to anchor himself to something. His eyes were rimmed red.
"What do we do now?" Peeta asked, giving the boy's fingers a gentle squeeze. As tempting as it was, they couldn't just stand around here crying all day.
"We find Marvel," Cato replied, eyes burning with hatred. "We find Marvel and we fucking kill him." As he spoke, another cannon sounded in the distance. Maybe the Capitol would get the bloodbath they had so desired after all.
Fingers still tightly laced together, the boys picked their way through the trees. Their search for the boy from District One seemed to be leading nowhere. They knew he wouldn't have strayed too far from their camp, seeing as he was so unfamiliar with the rest of the forests' surroundings, but so far they hadn't been able to find even a trace of him anywhere.
Then a piercing scream echoed through the woods, followed by the distinct sound of a girl sobbing. Peeta felt Cato tense beside him, cocking his head and listening for a moment before sprinting towards the sound, practically dragging the other boy behind him as he went. As they drew closer, Peeta began to recognize the voice behind the shouting.
Katniss.
"Get off me," she cried, her voice cracking around the words where her screaming had damaged it. "What do you want from me? Haven't you taken enough? Just… just kill me already! Kill me!"
Peeta hadn't seen the girl on friendly terms since their first day in the arena when she'd shot off the podium and into the woods. Their next encounter had been far from amicable - they had been trying to kill one another. She probably hated him now. He had helped the Careers chase her up that tree, and surround her with all intent to kill her. She'd outsmarted them back then, though, somehow dropping a whole nest of tracker jackers down on them as they slept.
He almost smiled at the memory. Back then, he would have never imagined that the next time they met, she'd be crying out for mercy. She had never seemed the type.
Stumbling, he pushed his way through the branches and brambles until he found her. The sight horrified him so much that he was left speechless. Katniss was strung up high, hung from a tree like a piñata. The rope around her neck tied like a noose, the type that holds fast under pressure rather than just tightening and putting its victim out of their misery.
At the base of the tree, Marvel stood clutching his damn spear. At his side laid the corpse of the little girl from Eleven, Rue. Her body was contorted at weird angles, as if he'd snapped each of her limbs one by one before he'd killed her.
Judging by the way he was treating Katniss, he had probably done just that. Each time the girl cried out, he would stretch his arm back and whack her with the sharp metal tip of his weapon, hard enough to tear the skin open but never enough to pierce anything vital. It was never enough to kill her. Over and over again he'd drive it towards her, laughing manically at her pain. She'd scream and cry each time, begging and pleading with him to stop.
She just wanted him to kill her.
"What are you doing away from camp?" Cato called out to him, subtly dropping Peeta's hand as the other boy turned to face him. Somehow he managed to keep his voice even, to make himself sound relatively calm. "I told you to stay and guard Clove."
Marvel's swings at his victim paused momentarily. "What does it look like I'm doing? I heard a noise, so I decided to follow it, and just look!" He looked so proud of himself as he gestured to the two girls. "I caught them, both of them and now I'm having a little fun with this one," he punctuated this with another jab into Katniss' side. She whimpered. "…Before I kill her." He flashed them a wide smirk. "You want in on the action?"
A predatory smirk formed on Cato's face, and he drew his sword quickly, nodding. Raising it, he angled it towards her and she flinched in anticipation of the blow that never came. Instead, using a quick maneuver he'd learnt back in his District, the boy drove the blade straight into Marvel. It sunk into the flesh just above his stomach.
It took a moment for what had happened it to register with Marvel as he glanced between the sword embedded in his body and his former ally in confusion. Then it dawned on him and he tried to lift his spear, to aim it at Cato's heart. The boy had seen that move coming, though, and whacked the weapon from his hand.
The spear, Marvel's only true friend in the arena, clattered to the floor. Even that had betrayed him in the end.
Cato drew his hand back, punching the boy square in the jaw and knocking him off his feet. Marvel was still breathing as he crashed down, just barely heaving heavy, labored pants.
In a second, Cato was crouched over him, gently smoothing the hair back from his face so that the cameras could get a perfect view of the boy's proud, cocky expression distorting into agony and fear as he died. Now everyone would see how weak Marvel truly was.
"I don't understand," the boy moaned, his bemused eyes locking with the other Career's. Blood bubbled up from his throat as he spoke, trickling past his lips and down over his chin. Thick trails of tears came afterwards, weaving small transparent paths through the river of sticky red blood. "Isn't this what you wanted?"
"I told you to stay with Clove. I told you to look after her. That's what I wanted," Cato spat. "Now she's dead and it's all your fault. If you'd just stayed with her, if you'd just… If you'd just waited, we could have still saved her."
From the floor, Marvel began to laugh, his body convulsing on the floor and throat choking on his own blood as he did so, but he was laughing nonetheless. "You still don't get it, do you?" he garbled, struggling to form his words right. "Or have you f-forgotten? Has your little Lover Boy over there made you… made you forget? This is a competition. You don't get to s-save people here. The only option… the only option is to kill them."
"Fuck you." Cato spat the words venomously as he straightened out his limbs, only standing up so he could look down on the boy properly. He wanted to savour this moment, to take in how pathetic the other looked. "This… This has been a long time coming. You always were a worthless piece of shit," he told him, running the blade of his sword across the boy's throat. Driving it straight through the skin, he whispered "I'll see you in hell."
For the third time that day, the boom of the cannon sounded.
Slowly Peeta approached the other boy, unsure of whether or not his comfort would soothe him or just irritate him. Quietly slipping his hand into Cato's, he bit his lip, bracing himself for rejection. It never came. Instead, the boy's hand shifted, his fingers tightening around Peeta's sweat-slicked palm.
Neither of them spoke, just stared down at Marvel's body. A serene sort of silence settled in over them, right up until a foot kicked out at the back of Peeta's head, knocking him right off balance. Cato dropped his hand in surprise, allowing the boy to crash to the floor. From where she hung, Katniss smirked, looking satisfied.
Once he realised what had happened, Cato began to laugh loudly. "What was that for?" Peeta huffed. "We just helped you, and this is how you repay us?" A few stray leaves and twigs had embedded themselves in his hair, making his indignant expression look even more ridiculous. Cato laughed harder.
She rolled her eyes. "No, that was for forgetting about me, you stupid asshole. I'm still dying over here, you know!" Her tone was light but her words were serious, the tear tracks still fresh on her cheeks. She was putting on a brave face, probably for the benefit of her friends and family back in Twelve. Clever girl. No one wanted to watch someone they love suffering.
"Oh, right." They still had to kill her. Somewhere down the line, he'd forgotten that minute detail. He scrambled back onto his feet, his hand coming to rest on the hilt of his sword.
Even as he drew it out, the boy knew he wouldn't be able to do it. A part of him wouldn't, still couldn't kill her. It was the part that remembered her from his first day of school, hair braided into two plaits instead of one, hand shooting up when the class was asked if anyone knew the valley song. The part that saw her trailing around with her freshly caught game, the part that ate her squirrels, the part that had tossed her that bread the day she sat outside his house in the rain, starving to death. He couldn't do it.
He couldn't bring himself to kill Katniss Everdeen.
Beside him, Cato drew his sword. Clearing his throat a little, he smiled at the girl weakly in an attempt to play along with her light approach to her own death. "I'm sorry," he told her sincerely. "I think you're punishing the wrong man over there. He couldn't kill you if he tried. I actually promised him that I would do it. I… I'm sorry that I didn't save you sooner. We never meant for you to have to suffer."
"It's okay," Katniss replied softly. "Please, just do it."
Peeta couldn't watch as the other boy pierced her heart with the sharp sword and Katniss Everdeen, the girl he had known all of his life, the hunter, the volunteer-for-her-sister, the hostile girl from the train and the girl he trained with drew her last breath.
Just as the cannon sounded, he felt a warm arm wrap around his waist, the grip strong and comforting. "C'mon, let's get out of here." His voice was soft and gentle, calming. "I think that's more than enough killing for one day." Cato tugged him along, out of the clearing and away from the three dead bodies so that the Capitol could come and collect them.
Neither boy wanted to acknowledge the fact that there weren't many left to kill now, because that would mean accepting the fact that their alliance was coming to an end. It had been so fragile at first, so breakable and yet somehow, somewhere during the course of the past week or so, the two of them had become completely dependent on one another.
Right now, they needed each other more than ever.
That was a dangerous need to have. After all, there were only four people still living and breathing left in this arena. Four remaining of the original twenty-four. In just a few days, if not sooner, they would be forced to fight to the death. Only one of them would survive.
A/N: Hello hi, hey everyone and thank you for reading! Kind of a lot happened this chapter, so as ever we'd love to hear what you think! Reviews are wonderful things and they make writing this so much more fun for us, so if you have the time please leave one! Seriously, we'd really appreciate it! We have exams, so might be a while until the next update. Sorry! Much love, and have a nice rest of the week you guys!