Chapter 11: The Game Changer

Clove:

A lot has happened in the past few days. Somebody killed Katniss' pathetic little ally, Rue. And, much to my pleasure, Marvel had also met his demise. Most recently, however, Cato and I decided to break our alliance.

We had said that it'd be easier this way, since the end of the games is quickly approaching. There wasn't much to it; we simply divvied up supplies and went our separate ways without exchanging any words. It would've been pointless, since we both already know what the other would say. It'd probably be something along the lines of "Don't die." or "See you in Hell."

Leaving Cato wasn't supposed to hurt this much; it should've been easy for me to cut our ties, but it wasn't. It isn't. I miss our pointless bickering and empty threats; I miss having his arms around me, and stealing kisses in the cover of night.

Focus, Clove, focus. I think to myself as I lay in the underbrush. You can't afford to have emotions. I take a deep breath and think strategy; there are six of us left. If I was a scared tribute, where would I hide?

The snap of a twig breaks the eerie silence of the night, answering my question. My hand immediately goes for my favored knife – a slender, intricate little beauty – and I peer through the foliage to see what lurks ahead. My vision is tinted green because of my night vision goggles, but I can clearly see the tribute standing a few feet away. Their hood is up, so I can't tell who it is, but they're pretty big, so it's a good thing that I have the element of surprise on my side.

I pounce like a jungle cat attacking her prey, and I land on the back of the now startled tribute. I wrap my legs around their torso and hold my knife up to their throat, poised to kill. The person's hand flies to mine and grabs hold of it, restraining it and my knife. Their other hand reaches back, grabs the back of my jacket, and flings me over their shoulder to the ground with a grunt.

For a short moment, I catch a glimpse of the tribute's face; Cato's face. My eyes suddenly flood with tears as the reality of what I'm trying to do strikes me. But no matter how terrible it is; it must be done.

I spring from the ground and turn to face Cato. We stare each other down, walking slowly in a circle, sizing each other up. He knows my weakness; my left arm. It's not my throwing arm, but still, I have to protect it. Secondly, he knows that I keep my knives inside my jacket. If he gets hold of my knives, it's lights out for me.

Cato makes the first move, swiping his sword down by my legs. I jump over it with ease; clearly he was just testing the waters. Next, as predicted, he goes to slash at my left arm. I'm prepared for the move, however, and duck, springing back up to slice the arm his sword is in with my knife as the momentum he created forces him to move his arm the opposite direction.

He doesn't even wince, he just continues to what I assume is his Plan B.

Cato drops his sword and starts throwing punches and kicks. I avoid a left hook and an uppercut to the jaw, but I can't escape from the jab to my stomach.

I recoil from the blow and fight the urge to curl up in a ball and clutch my midsection. Instead, I remind myself of why I am here; Piper; Atonia. I repeat the words over and over in my head as I fight until nothing else matters but getting home to them. Piper. Atonia.

The fire building up inside of me reaches its peak as I let my knife clatter to the forest floor and attack Cato with a series of martial arts moves.

I falter for a second and stop in my tracks after connecting my foot with his midsection. Am I really so heartless that I can motivate myself to kill Cato? All thoughts of my sisters fade as thoughts of him cloud my mind. A few tears spill over the rims of my eyes; killing Cato would be like killing somebody I love. No, I think to myself; killing him would be killing somebody I love.

I realize what a big mistake my hesitation was as he swiftly picks his weapon up from the ground and charges me, knocking me to the ground as I quickly grab an array of knives from my jacket and hold them to his heart.

"One more move and you're dead." I pant between breaths.

"I might say the same about you." he says, holding his sword up to my throat.

I don't know what to do. Everything that I had ever learned in training escapes my brain, leaving me to stare into Cato's deep blue eyes as a few more tears fall down the sides of my face. Seconds pass and I realize that Cato is starting to tear up, too, but is doing a better job at hiding it.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Claudius Templesmith's voice booms throughout the arena. "There has been a rule change! Any two tributes from the same district that are the last two standing will be the victors!"

The words should've sent relief flooding through me, and I should be entwined in Cato's arms right now, but I only tighten my grip on my knives, and he does the same to his sword.

After a short pause, Claudius repeats himself.

I can't believe it. They never change the rules. The change is probably meant for the damn star-crossed lovers of District 12, but it applies to Cato and I too, right?

Cato tosses his sword to the side and pushes my handful of knives away, and I release my grip on them. Still on top of me, he caresses the sides of my face with his hands and crushes his lips against mine.

Tears trickle down my face as I kiss him back with more passion than ever before.

I get to keep him. Neither of us will have to die. I get to have a future.

We'll both survive.

My sisters will be safe from my father, and Cato can finally help what remains of his family.

A thousand different scenarios flash through my head at once; all of them about the life we can have together back in District 2.

Of course, there are still four other tributes left, but who could ever win a fight against the two of us?

I completely forget about the world around me and allow all of my energy to go into this kiss. Every touch sends adrenaline pulsating through my veins; every kiss sends shivers up my spine.

I could get used to this. I think to myself.

Cato:

That night, Clove and I make camp in a nearby clearing and fall asleep in each other's arms, not wanting to ever let go again.

I awake in the early hours of the morning, long before the sun is ready to rise. Apparently I'm not the only one, and Clove groggily opens her eyes and turns her head to face me.

"Sorry for trying to… kill you." she says apologetically, hesitating to say the last two words.

"We did what we had to do." I add indifferently. But in reality, nothing hurt me more than fighting in hand-to-hand combat with Clove. I haven't really admitted it to myself yet, but it's time to face the truth; I love her. And right now, I would do anything to get us back home to District 2.

The 74th Annual Hunger Games have been pretty tough on the two of us. I mean, how many people can say that they found love in a fight to death? And then have actually had to try to kill that person? As far as I know, there have been 4. But I'm pretty sure that Lover Boy and the Girl on Fire haven't spent any time trying to kill each other yet, so really it's just Clove and I.

This is one fucked up relationship. I think as I lightly stroke Clove's hair with my hand.

"Do you think they'll announce the Feast today?" I wonder.

"I hope so, because I haven't had a kill in days." she remarks.

She winces as she turns herself completely around in our sleeping bag to face me, and a pang of guilt hits me in the chest.

"Where did I hit you?" I ask worriedly.

"It's nothing. Seriously, I'm fine."

"Clove," I say, lifting her chin so I can look into her eyes, "it's not fine. Now where did I hit you?"

She rolls her eyes, but she finally gives in and tells me what's wrong. "It's the jab to my stomach that got me." Clove says.

"I'm so sorry, Clove. I…"

"We did what we had to do." she adds, cutting me off. "What about you? I cut you pretty deep last night."

"It's manageable." I say.

She pushes my sleeve out of the way and takes off the bloodied bandage on my upper left arm. My newest battle wound – a deep cut in the form of a long, straight line – had stopped bleeding and was already beginning to form a light pink scar.

"We have matching scars now." she adds as she adjusts my sleeve.

I kiss the top of her head and pull her closer to me, holding her tightly. One of us almost lost the other for good last night, and the thought of it terrifies me. Now that the both of us can make it out alive, I might as well admit that if she died, part of me would have died, too. I still would've killed her if there wasn't a rule change, but it wouldn't have been without a heavy heart.

Clove drifts back to sleep, and the sound of her steady breathing sends me off to sleep, too.

Soon enough, we'll be together with our families in the Victor's Village of District 2, and it's that thought that keeps me going; I'm ready for these games to end.