CupcakeSprinkles14- He lost Peeta to drive you crazy, lol. Just kidding. You'll have to read to find out!
nightowl- I have a soft spot for Marvel in this story myself. Can't say yet that I know what his fate will be.
SakuraDrops141- Aww, thanks! I'm glad Marvel survived as well.
MangoMagic17- Thank you so much. I'm really having fun exploring first-person present-tense this time around. It's been a little difficult writing what's inside Cato's mind the most, but I'm happy you approve:)
pumpkinking5- Wow. Thank you so much for such a wonderful and thoughtful review. I find Cato's personality in most fanfics very dark and deliciously animalistic, but I just can't bring myself to take him that far in mine. Aggressive but passionate is right where I like him to be. Your insights into him, Peeta, and Marvel's place in this story made me so happy to read. You're so awesome.
JacksonTheGreat- I'm being serious when I say I have no idea where this story is going either, lol. I just take it one idea at a time. So glad you love it.
Your Failing Epicness- Peeta's headed for trouble, as usual :) So don't die on me. I want you to read more!
swishyla- I love not being fair :) Peeta can't stay put for his own good. He has to find out everything the hard way haha.
Peeta's POV
Marvel's lean arms flex on either side of me as he whips the reigns of our racing horse harder. The beat of its galloping hooves sound so far away, echoing off the canyons of my consciousness. I'm still reeling from what had just taken place. Those creatures were the essence of nightmares and they seemed to have awaken true fear from within me. I was terrified. I am terrified. Yet, amidst my paralyzing fear, I had managed to move. I moved to place myself between those beasts and Cato. Did I somehow know they could sense the demon? Know that they would stop? Of course not. I'm completely oblivious to this new hellacious existence I've found myself in. So what the hell was I thinking? Other than being ripped limb from limb, I don't think I was thinking anything. It was sheer impulse. But why? Why did I do that?
"We should go back!" I shout over my shoulder, looking back to the specks that are Cato and the final mutt. The tinier they get in the distance, the more nauseated I feel. This isn't right.
"We're of no need," Marvel assures. "Cato will win. We need to find Haymitch before more of them show up."
I turn back to face forward again, willing myself to be half as focused as Marvel. It's nearly impossible though as my inner turmoil eats away at me. Why did I do that? As controlling and dominating as Cato is, I don't hate him. I hate that he thinks he owns me, but I know that doesn't justify a gruesome end at the hands of those mutts. Still, do I care about him? Care enough that I would actually risk my own life to give him a chance to live his? I didn't think I did, kept telling myself I wouldn't, but apparently my actions speak differently. And don't actions speak louder than words? God, what the fuck is wrong with me?
"District 4!" Marvel shouts as the buildings come into full view. It's much larger than 12, bustling with hoards of people blissfully unaware of the troubled teens riding from peril. We arrive, quickly descending the horse and I fight against the crowd to remain by Marvel's side as he ties the horse to a post. Everyone's so busy, taking little notice of their new arrivals. I know that no one is aware of the chaos erupting inside my mind right now.
I can't make heads or tails of it, and the possibility that I'm growing attached to Cato, as well as Marvel, unsettles me to my core. I can't afford to care for anyone at this point. The presence of those mutts had set my soul afire and I could feel the darkness raging inside me, desperate to join them in their assault. I know anyone that I care about could become a target. That's why I ran away in the first place.
Run away. The idea creeps into the forefront of my mind. For the first time since the night on the altar, Cato isn't by my side. Marvel's back is to me, still calming the horse and tying it to the post. The ruckus of district 4 life is the perfect backdrop. Now is the time to make a break for it. I can't take it anymore. I can't stay here.
My eyes pierce through Marvel's hunched shoulder as I back away and disappear into the enormous crowd. I'm swept up in their rush, unable to maneuver through them back to Marvel's side. Bye Marvel. It really was nice meeting you, despite the fucked-up circumstances.
"Ugh, why do I have to be so fucking short?" I curse to myself as I try to stand on my tippy toes to see over the crowd while I'm continually pushed further away. Thinking through my actions, I realize that my ability to think ahead and strategize for my own wellbeing is so painfully pathetic. When Cato gets here, I'll probably be hunted down and found like an idiot, still meandering through the crowd. He'll be pissed and I'll probably be punished. But I still have to try. I follow the masses toward the sound of waves.
The ocean breeze works its way through the district and the scent of salty sea air is invigorating. I give in to the current of the forceful crowd, suddenly determined to get closer to the ocean. I've only seen it in paintings and I know nothing beats the real thing. I find myself being pushed towards a pier that juts out over the sea. The pier is bustling with even more people headed to the different market stands and I stop near a hut with hand-blown glass that sits towards the end. I'm intrigued by all the intricacy and colors. I smile at the vendor and admire his work when I feel it stir inside me again, stronger this time. No. Not now. Please, not now. I just had a taste of freedom and just like that, I'm reminded by the twisting inside me that I'm forever a prisoner.
My mind clouds over as a low growl rips out from an unknown source and everyone around me quiets. The cool ocean breeze suddenly turns icy to the point the surrounding citizens can see their breath, but I'm burning up. Uneasy tension surfaces from the people around me and I feel like I've lost all sense of myself. I feel my hands go rigid. The glass vendor's beautiful vases and hand-crafted trinkets begin to shatter suddenly in rapid succession, some of the jars flying out from the shelves, and the crowd gathered around jumps back and screams at the activity. It's not until someone's dog starts viciously barking at me that I snap out of it and feel a stinging sensation on my arm.
I look down to see three of my fingers digging their way up to my elbow. The bright crimson that appears on my bare flesh mimics the juicy red apples sold at the market. I look over to see a frightened woman witnessing my self-mutilation, recognition flashing across her face.
"YOU!" the hysterical woman shouts as she points to me. "A demon! A demon!"
Her frenzied outburst has everyone nearby turning their attention towards me. Shit. I want to open my mouth and diffuse the situation, but I'm afraid what might come out. I turn to leave, but I'm met with an encircling mob. A large man's hands grab me and drag me away. I kick and scream as I watch him drag me to the edge of the pier… he's going to throw me into the ocean. Oh, god. I can't swim. The panic erupts and I start thrashing madly. I know I'm hurting the man, but his grip doesn't falter. I suddenly lose purchase with the wooden boards of the pier and it's then that I know I'm over the edge. The man's hands let go and for a split second, I'm weightless. I'm falling. A scream rips from my throat until the impact of water knocks the wind out of my lungs to silence me forever. The cool wrath of the ocean envelopes my scorched skin and rushes into my beaten lungs. It burns and I struggle to reach the water's surface, but I'm panicked and disoriented. I can't see. There's no up or down anymore. I'm longing for just one last breath of air, but all I feel is fire radiating in my chest. I'm drowning. I'm really drowning. This is it. Suddenly, everything seems to slow; time stands still. I can see the sunlight from the surface now, filtering through the crystal blue water. It's so beautiful, but I'm so far down. I just want to touch the sun, but I'm so far down…
There's a surge of pressure erupting from my throat. I cough and gag and feel a rush of wetness running down my face and neck. Water? Blood? Scalding lava? It hurts so much. My eyes shoot open and everything is bright. Too bright. I instinctively turn away and shield myself into the warmth of the one holding me. Wait, someone's holding me? Still heaving violently, I struggle to tilt my head up to see. My vision is blurry, but I know it's him. Cato's sitting me up and smacking my back to help me cough. My hands scrape into what feels like sand. Every muscle is screaming.
"That's it. Cough it all out," he says with tender eagerness. He's wet too, but his smacks to my back are separated by quick, soothing rubs. I feel so weak and defeated, but in this moment so relieved to have him here with me. I don't even have the strength to hold my head up anymore and I gladly find rest lying against his chest as he holds me. Cato takes the bottom of his shirt and presses it against my bleeding arm. He then suddenly folds his body in a way that shields me from the world and it's then I hear the cries of the approaching mob. They're descending from the pier to finish the job.
"Marvel!" Cato yells. "Do something!"
I peak over Cato's shoulder to see Marvel, our lone ranger, standing between us and the rowdy crowd. His stance is menacing and his spear is at the ready, but I know he can't take on all these people by himself. I want so badly to regain my strength so I can surrender. I don't want Marvel to die.
"Stop!" a familiar voice screams behind the mob. His fury and adamancy makes everyone halt.
"No one moves another fucking inch unless it's to get out of our way!" I hear a woman's voice bark.
The crowd begrudgingly listens and parts a path for them. I knew I recognized that first voice! There, in all his drunken glory, Haymitch Abernathy comes forward with three other women I've never seen before. One is quite elderly.
"Cato, that's Haymitch," I inform with a raspy wheeze. Immediately Cato picks my weary body up, bridal style, and makes his way over to Marvel.
"Marvel, that's our man," Cato says. Marvel cautiously lowers his spear as Haymitch and the three strange women approach us.
"I see you two boys brought me a gift from home," Haymitch grins to Cato and Marvel. The old man's eyes then fall on me and my white-knuckled grip on Cato's soaked shirt. "Hello, Peeta my boy. What a surprise. Looks like you've been up shit creek without a paddle."
"Yeah," I croak. "And clearly my boat's tipped over too."
One of the women next to him with spiky hair snickers at my dry humor and Haymitch's gruff laughter follows to ease the tension amidst everyone in the crowd, barely.
"I'm Haymitch Abernathy, from 12," Haymitch confirmed to Cato and Marvel. "These lovely ladies by my side are Annie and Mags from right here in 4, as well as Miss Johanna Mason from 7."
"Pleasure," Cato offers coldly. "I'd be more than willing to introduce myself to you if you can call off the hit placed on Peeta here first."
Haymitch supplies an appreciative smile and turns to the mob. "Folks," Haymitch begins as he addresses the citizens of 4. "Go on back to your business. I know this boy, and I can assure you he's not afflicted in the same likes of our dear Finnick Odair. Let me handle this."
The elderly woman, Mags, takes the lead then and helps shoo off the disgruntled mob that get their last malicious glares at me before departing back up to the pier.
"Oh, Peeta," Haymitch pities me as he shakes his head. "I assume there's a story to tell here, you showing up, cursed, with these two strange boys."
"We're in trouble, sir," is all I can say after a million explanations run through my head. I've lost my grip on Cato's shirt and am now lazily letting him carry all my dead weight. My chest is killing me and I'm too lethargic to give a shit. Now that the immediate danger has subsided, the burning from the salt water in my clawed-up arm is attacking me with all its fury. I'm too distracted to continue the conversation.
"We actually came all this way to see you, Mr. Abernathy," Marvel takes over, thankfully. "I'm Marvel, from district 1, and the strapping lad holding your endangered friend here, is Cato, from 2."
At the mention of Cato's name and origin, Haymitch and the three women resemble victims of an electric shock.
"It's you," the woman named Annie whispers. "H-have you come across Finnick?" she asks with worry.
"Who the hell is Finnick?" Cato asks back, ignoring and yet effectively answering her question simultaneously.
Johanna from 7 steps forward and scowls. "If you don't know who he is yet, you will. He's been looking for you."
"What?" Cato says, agitated. "I came here for answers, lady, and all you people seem to be doing is adding more confusion to the mix. Look, district 2's gone, burnt to oblivion. I was chased through the woods by mutts and Peeta has a demon inside him. I really don't care who else is looking for me right now. I just want to know what I can do about all this and why the fuck it's happening in the first place. And I didn't come here to talk to you. I'm here for Haymitch."
"My my, you're a feisty little shit, aren't ya?" Johanna replies back with a disgusted sneer of challenge defacing her sharp features. I think if Cato wasn't still holding me, he would have lunged straight for her neck.
"Now now," the elderly woman, Mags, interjects. "We're getting ahead of ourselves here. We will answer all your questions in the privacy and security of my home," she offers Cato. "Let's all go now and get you boys fed and washed up. You boys could use some clean, dry clothes and Peeta needs to rest."
"We thank you kindly," Marvel obliges on our behalf.
Without wasting a second more, we all travel up the beach and follow Mags to her home. Cato refuses to put me down, but I certainly don't care at the moment with the way I'm feeling. Not to mention everyone in the district is staring me down. If looks could kill, I'd be massacred twenty times over by the daggers they're all shooting at me with their eyes. Cato only holds me closer to him and works us in between Marvel and Haymitch as an added safety measure against the bloodthirsty crowd. With Mags leading the way though, the people don't dare step another foot closer. I think Mags has garnered a type of respect and wisdom in 4 that you just don't dare to question. But that certainly doesn't mean that these people have to like her decision to welcome a possessed boy into their home.
"Are you alright?" Cato suddenly whispers into my ear amidst the mobs of citizens.
"I will be," I tell him. "How did you find me and get me out of the water in time?"
"Marvel and I were close, we heard you scream. We got to the scene just in time to watch that son of a bitch throw you off the edge. So, I went in after you."
"You seriously jumped all the way off the pier?" I gasp. "There could've been rocks or a violent swell!"
"I know. But how else could I get to you in time, Peeta?" he says with a shrug as if his daring little stunt was nothing at all. I don't think Cato was lying when he had spoken to Katniss. He told her he cares more than she could possibly know. I am seeing now that he cares more than I could possibly know. I feel like a drowned rat as I look up at Cato with fascination in my eyes. "Why can't you just let me go?" I croak with still wet lungs.
"If I let go of you, I let go of me."
"What does that even mean?" I shake my head.
"Don't think too hard about it, okay?" he asks. "Just let it be."
I'm too tired to put up a fight, so I settle for a sigh as I lay my head back on his chest and let him carry me to Mag's home. I think I'm done with this nonsense of repeatedly asking him to let me go. He's clearly not going to, and in the safety of his steady arms, I don't really think I want him to. Not anymore.