Unfortunately for Cato he'd underestimated his will to live. To die was not an easy thing, because humans, even in ruin, cling to life, and for a person inculcated with the desire to survive, he'd have to work twice as hard against it.

Even injured he was able to kill Thresh, who was fast but not as skilled as Cato. He didn't even realize what he'd done until he looked at the blood covering his sword. He took no pleasure in his death, but it felt good to do something. Anything. To take his mind off of what happened.

Clove. Clove. Where was she now? He wanted to go join her. Why couldn't he?

He couldn't kill himself. That would mean utter destruction for his family and everyone he knew. Suicide was the ultimate form of cowardice and if he did it he could not be buried in their cemetery. And he wanted to be buried next to her. To be with her in some way.

In any event, he had no desire to find the pair from 12. They could find him, he could die of dehydration, he didn't care how it happened. He knew if he waited too long the Gamemakers would force them together but for once in his life he'd wait for that moment. He didn't want to kill again today.

Time passed but he took no notice of it. He dumped out his water hours ago and he was never good at catching food. Maybe he would die here. It didn't matter. There was nothing left here. Something broke inside him when the life left Clove's eyes. Nothing mattered anymore.

He lived in a cloud of grief until, abruptly, he heard dogs barking in the distance. He turned around just in time to see one gaining on him and he ran, because he knew whatever happened that they were pushing him towards the other two, to the end of this.

He ran clumsily, dehydrated and exhausted. He hadn't slept since Clove had died. Every time he tried he'd see her face and relive the nightmare of not being able to save her.

He kept running, limbs working at full capacity until he realized he'd run past the two from 12. He ran towards the Cornucopia, determined to find a flat surface on which to end this. He climbed it easily, his training returning to him, and he began fighting the pair of them. Peeta was never much of a threat and Katniss was so much smaller that even two against one he knew he could win this. They also possessed a deadly weakness in that they cared for one another. They'd protect one another. Exploit that and he was sure to win.

He hadn't planned to fight, but there were some things that never leave you and 13 years of hand-to-hand combat training was certainly one of them. But there was something else, something more powerful than habit driving him. He hated these two. He hated that they had what he'd lost. He didn't want to win, he didn't want to go back, but the bile coursing through him determined his actions, not his brain.

And there he had him. The boy in a headlock. He started talking, not really knowing what he was saying but so angry he didn't care. He'd lost some blood in the conflict and he was already dehydrated, his district would blame his words on that, he was sure about it. But the Capitol would not. At least, he hoped not. He hoped they'd hear him loud and clear. How vile they were. Forcing these children to the slaughter. They were just kids. How was any of this all right?

And before he knew it Katniss shot his hand and he was falling towards the mutts. They ripped and tore at him, but he didn't notice. They'd kill him soon. Wouldn't they?

But of course they wouldn't. The Gamemakers would never be that kind. The Capitol wanted the tributes to do their dirty work. So he lay there, moaning, as pain surrounded and encompassed him, but he didn't really care. The worst pain of all was in his heart and what could be worse than that?

He thought of Clove and she kept him company. He thought back on every memory of them as children. Holding hands while walking to the store. Exploring every nook and crevice of their district. Her teaching him how to sew, him teaching her how to build. When they were 11 and they'd snuck out to a field to watch the stars. They way her eyes crinkled when she smiled. The look she gave him before she did something mischievous.

Soon he wasn't lonely anymore, he wasn't in pain. It was like Clove was with him, and the longer the night wore on the more real she became. He cried out no longer because of his wounds, but because he was so close to her but he couldn't reach her, that they would not deliver the final blow.

Finally, eventually, Katniss stood up and aimed her bow at him. His final word in this world was 'please'. He didn't fear death anymore. He welcomed it. He closed his eyes as she shot his heart and the last thing he saw was Clove, grinning at him from ear to ear; ready to welcome him into this next adventure.