All of us freeze up.
It's three against one, or at least that's what it sounds like. I don't hear anyone else coming, and with how Clove's doing, I'm guessing that Cato is here by himself. So at first glance, a person would think it would be easy for our little group to go out and kill him. While Peeta's pretty useless, it wouldn't be difficult for me to distract Cato, and for Katniss to then finish him off with an arrow.
The only problem is that as soon as one of us leaves this shelter, Cato will know that the rest are coming. We know where he is and he doesn't know where we are, but it's impossible to sneak out of here unheard, not with the vines and dead leaves and crouching that would all be involved in getting out of this place.
Or, I suppose I should say, that the leaves and things would make it impossible for Peeta or me to sneak out quietly. Honestly, I have no doubt that Katniss could manage it. I also have no doubt that Cato isn't blind, that he'd see Katniss right away, and that he'd be close enough to kill her with his sword before she could even pull back her bowstring.
"We do we do?" Peeta mouths. I look to Katniss, who motions for us to stay put.
Stay put? Yeah, that's a smart idea.
I gesture at our stupid shelter. If Cato is actively looking for us, he's going to see it eventually, and then we'll be completely screwed. I swear, I'd be more subtle wearing Glimmer's freaking pink feather headdress in District Twelve than this damn shelter is right now. Or at least it sure as hell feels that way, now that we're waiting for Cato to come find and dismember us.
Or at least dismember Katniss and Peeta. After that message I left him earlier, that'd probably be too kind for me. Torture, probably. Cutting off my toes and fingers one by one. Performing a lobotomy while I'm still alive. I've heard that if you cut carefully, you can actually carve a person's brain up pretty well before they die. I can almost see Cato poking around in my head with a sword, laughing while I stand there with a smile on my face, too brain-dead to know what's going on.
I feel sick at just the thought. I pray to God Cato won't have time to take things that far. I mean, he isn't actually insane. He's just violent. I think.
"You're here somewhere," Cato says. "I heard you."
No one so much as breathes. Maybe he is blind, since he can't see our shelter.
There's a bunch of noise while Cato moves around, probably examining the surrounding area a bit more closely. I can't help but marvel at how loudly he's moving. I think back to the sound of stumbling before and wonder if something is wrong with him. That would definitely be a mark in our favor. Hell, if he would just face the wrong direction for a second, I could go after his bum leg, and…
"So that's where you're hiding," Cato says.
His voice is directed straight in our direction, and even though he's standing a bit further away than before, it's obvious that he's found us. Katniss's grip tightens on her bow, Peeta raises a knife, and I put my hands on my spear, even though Peeta's weapon is the only one we really have room to use.
Cato laughs harshly, but says nothing. I can hear him shuffling across the forest floor. Moving closer. Until he's right outside our shelter.
Three on one. That's good enough odds, right? If he comes slashing with a sword, someone will be able to get a hit on him, and then the others will finish him off. Hell, if he goes after Peeta first, no one important will even get hurt-
My thoughts come to a screeching halt when I hear a strange rubbing noise. It lasts for a second before it goes away, and there's still no Cato. For an instant, I wonder what's going on, but then I realize that something smells funny. Vaguely, I think back to when some bored rich broad decided that doing housework was fashionable. My mother vowed to learn how to cook, and she burnt everything.
Our shelter is starting to smell like my mother's kitchen, and I really do not want to turn into something that resembles the shit that Brianna and I were forced to choke down that entire month.
"That's smoke," I hiss.
"Wait…" Katniss says, eyes wide. We all look towards the entrance in horror. Smoke is already winding in, and several of the vines have caught fire, only feet away from Peeta- the closest one to the entrance. I stare in shock as more vines catch fire, as even the grass below seems to be smoldering. There's no way in hell we can get out that way anymore.
Cato apparently didn't like the three-one odds so much either. I suppose burning us alive is a rather easy, efficient solution to that problem.
"Don't panic," Katniss says quickly. "If you start hyperventilating, you'll breathe in more smoke than necessary, and-"
"Pass out before the flames get to us?" I ask dryly. "Because really, I think that's better than burning alive..."
Katniss glares, and I shake my head, forcing myself to focus. Right. Cato will get three kills if we die, and while I don't care about Peeta, I am not going to give that slimy bastard the satisfaction of knowing that he offed me like this. Hell, I have to do this for poor Katniss. If I don't, there'll be 'Girl on Fire' jokes running rampant through the Capitol for decades. There's no way that I'm going to let someone like her fizzle out into a cheesy punch line.
I look around, searching for some way to escape. The fire's climbing a bit, and I can feel the heat start to cling uncomfortably to my skin, the smoke burning my nostrils. Then my eyes settle on the second fallen tree, the one that's farther away from the fire. It's pretty thick and has to be heavy, but moving it is also our only chance of getting out of here.
"Peeta," I say, gesturing to the tree. "Help me get this out of the way."
Peeta immediately gets to his feet- he's short enough that he can actually walk without doing much more than ducking his head- and wordlessly takes his place beside me. Katniss must have the utmost faith in us, because she's moving all the bags and weapons close together, so that we can run quickly if- when- the tree's rolled out of the way.
Both Peeta and I start shoving at the huge tree. Nothing happens at first, even though we're obviously pushing as hard as we can. After a few seconds, though, Peeta's end starts shifting, just a little bit. As fucked up as it is, I almost stop and stare at him in shock.
He has to be at least as strong as Cato to be getting that thing to budge at all. How in the hell did that happen?
Peeta doesn't seem surprised at his progress, and keeps pushing as hard as he can. I join in again, moving closer to him so that we're both working to move one part of the tree instead of separately trying to get the whole thing out of the way. The smoke is rising higher, and at one point I have to take a second to bring my shirt over my mouth so I can breathe. Behind me, Katniss creeps closer, away from the flames, her stiffness a silent plea for Peeta and I to hurry up.
When we have maybe a two foot opening between the tree and the hill to crawl through, the fire is close enough that we're forced to stop. Since Cato's probably outside to make sure that we stay where we're supposed to, Katniss gestures for me to go first. I sling my pack out through the hole, then grab my spear and awkwardly tuck it under my arm as I shimmy up, pushing hard with my arms. When I feel my torso finally squeeze through the small space, I'm tempted to take a deep, gasping breath, but the air here is still thick with smoke. All around our shelter, I can see flames licking up hungrily; it's been so dry lately that Cato's little fire has turned huge pretty quickly.
Hurriedly, knowing that Katniss and Peeta still have to get out, I push myself out of the shelter the rest of the way, kicking the tree back a bit further. It doesn't move much, but Peeta's going to need all the room he can get.
Why in the hell do I care? a little voice asks.
Katniss won't leave without Peeta, I think.
Then I wonder why I care about that, either, quickly come to the conclusion that talking to myself is a confirmation of my madness, and push those extremely untimely thoughts from my head. Quickly, I toss my bag over my shoulder and switch my grip on my spear so that I'm holding it properly, before hopping off the tree and to the ground.
I move to look for Cato, but apparently looking is overrated; a sword comes down from behind me before I even get the chance to turn my head. Reflexively, I hold up my spear and deflect the hit, then jump backwards to give myself a little room to work with.
Glancing up, I see Peeta struggling to get his broad shoulders through the little space we made. I have no idea how Katniss got him to go first or why in the hell he agreed to it, but I only have a second to think before Cato takes another swing at me. I shield myself with my spear and back up further. Worriedly, I chance a look over my shoulder.
I'm moving dangerously close to the growing fire.
"I almost expected more of a challenge from you," Cato says. He's got his shirt over his mouth like I did, trying to keep out smoke, and it makes his voice rather frightening. "Then again, I suppose you'd be the last one to know to keep your mouth shut in the Hunger Games. I heard you from half a mile away."
If my throat wasn't feeling too raw to speak, I would first point out that Peeta was laughing just as loudly as I was, and then I would ask if he knows what a hypocrite is. As it is, I don't feel like talking, not with smoke making me sick and dizzy and my voice probably ugly and raspy.
Hoping that Cato's distracted, or at least waiting for a reply, I thrust my spear towards his heart. Of course, he bats my hit away without blinking. In the same motion, he raises his sword again and drives it towards my neck. I duck, but can feel his blade slice through the air above my head.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Peeta finally heave himself up out of the shelter. Something else comes out right away, and I want to curse when I see Katniss lifting the last pack out for him. For god's sake, it's a few measly supplies! Doesn't she know how much more important she is?
Cato slashes at me again, but his attacks aren't as anally accurate as I'd expected. He's still got a bandage around his arm from where I hit him before, and now I see that there's another one on his left leg. It looks like something took a chunk out of it. Whatever happened, the injury is messing him up just enough that I actually stand half a chance in this fight.
I try stabbing at him, but Cato blocks it again, then, while I'm off-balance, he throws several strikes at me in quick succession. I'm forced further backwards, closer to the fire.
Behind Cato, I notice that the shelter is halfway burnt by now, the flames outside almost reaching the opening Peeta and I made. Katniss isn't coming up yet, but Peeta is still waiting, yelling for her. Cato must hear, because his eyes glow with satisfaction.
"Looks like your girlfriend's struggling a bit. Pity you didn't let her come out first. I much rather would have watched you burn-"
"How's Clove doing?" I rasp out, cutting him off. I was smart to not talk before. It hurts, not to mention that I'm beginning to feel like I'm going to pass out if I don't get out of here soon. Screw beating Cato. He won't have to even touch me if I can't get away from this damn smoke. "I cut that bitch pretty deep. I would have rather killed her, nice and slowly, too, but-"
I barely get my spear up on time to keep Cato from cutting my head off.
Finally, at the edge of my vision, I catch a glimpse of Peeta yanking Katniss out of our shelter. I think she's passed out. Peeta looks at me, and I jerk my head at him, gesturing for them to run. He does, just as Cato comes at me again, faster and more seriously than before. I think the smoke is starting to get to him, too, and he wants to finish this fight as soon as he can.
I jerkily block swing after swing, but even though I struggle to keep my ground, Cato bulls me backwards. Towards the flames. I can feel the heat on my back, but there isn't shit I can do about it. It feels like I have to choose between burning to death and letting Cato kill me, and I'm not really too keen on either one of those less than savory options.
Finally, Cato manages to catch me off guard and swings for my feet. I jump up to avoid him, but between trying not to get my legs cut off and working to stay out of the fire, I lose my footing when I come down and land hard on the ground, my hair not a foot from the flames and Cato standing above me, everything about his posture victorious. I swallow, but it turns into a cough instead.
"Your fireworks were nice," Cato says. I can feel him smirking. "But I think that mine will do a bit more damage by the time these Games are through."
Then he raises his sword and brings it down hard. I barely knock it off track with my spear. The blade still cuts along my chest, but it doesn't pierce my heart like Cato had been hoping for. Annoyed as hell, he kicks my spear from my hands before I have the chance to recover, then brings his boot down hard on my right arm.
I can feel the bone snap. I can't hold back my scream, but my throat is burning so badly that it comes out as a terrible, desperate hack instead. Cato booms out a laugh and lifts his sword again, but I roll out of the way and he winds up sticking it in the ground instead of my body. Gritting my teeth, I use the second that it takes Cato to tear his sword out of the ground to yank Glimmer's sword out of my belt with my left hand. I can hardly see, with how the smoke is irritating my eyes, and I doubt Cato can either, because he doesn't seem very concerned about my new weapon.
Desperately, I stab towards his injured leg. Cato howls when the sword miraculously hits its mark. I can feel him collapse onto one knee, and I roughly yank the narrow sword out of his leg. Cato's down, my vision is going black, and I can hardly breathe. Clumsily, I swing again, but come up with nothing but air. I blink several times and focus just enough to see Cato struggling to his feet, already collecting himself enough to take another hack at me.
A lot of people may think I'm stupid, but I fully realize that even with his leg, Cato could tear me apart. Dazedly, I struggle to my feet just as Cato does the same. Thankfully, even though I've got a fucked up arm and a bloody gash stretching across my chest, I do not have a sword hole in my leg. Cato lunges for me, but he's so off balance that he misses completely. I stumble away from him, coughing and hacking beyond belief. He doesn't chase me.
I don't know how long it is before I finally get into clear air, but the burning in my throat is still there, even away from the smoke. To make things even peachier, my head is absolutely pounding. Peeta and Katniss are nowhere in sight.
I need water. That's one obvious thing. I also need… God, I don't even know what I need. Something for my arm. Something to stop the bleeding from where Cato raked his sword across my chest. Something to keep me alive, because I'm dying. I'm dying and it isn't even painless or instant and-
I screech to a halt. Too slowly, my eyes focus on the enormous person who is currently watching me. Thresh blurs and spins, but I have a gut feeling that he's more than just an illusion produced by my painfully muddled, most likely insane mind.
Without saying a word- or making a move to kill me- Thresh points. I blink several times. Maybe he is a figment of my imagination. I don't think so, but why in the hell would he point? I guess his little redheaded friend might want to kill me instead… maybe he's leading me to her. I suppose he is from the same district as Rue, and she didn't like killing. It could be an outer district thing, this aversion to murder, in which case it would make sense that he'd want his partner to take me out. I wonder if I could take her, with my head all muddled-
"Go," Thresh says. He sounds furious. I didn't do anything. Maybe he's mad at himself. For his weakness. Not being able to kill? Yeah… he's pissed because he can't kill me. Or maybe he's not real. I sway a bit because walking is easier than standing still, and my shirt feels really, really wet.
Blood loss. Smoke inhalation. Extreme pain. I had lessons about all those… they impair cognitive function. So chances are, I suppose one could call me crazy. Hallucinations seem like something that would result from a problem with the brain.
"Are you real?" I blurt.
"Yes," says Thresh. He walks forward and gives me a push, glancing over his shoulder as he does so. Like he's looking for someone. Waiting for his partner to come? "Now go. Katniss is that way." Then he points again.
"But-" I start. I shake my head. Apparently instructors were right. My cognitive function is sufficiently impaired. I'm confused. "Why are you not killing me?"
"I saw you," he says. Saw me. There's lots of times he could have seen me. "You said you would have died for Rue. My District thinks so, too. So go. I help you this one time. For Rue. No more owed, District One. You understand?"
Oh. When I got the parachute.
"Uh-huh," I say, answering his question about understanding. Really, I think I do. Understand him, I mean. Although I am a bit lost as to why he would go this far to repay a debt to me for something I didn't do for him, I try to act like I get it completely. After giving him an appreciate nod, I wordlessly follow Thresh's directions and pray that he's right and that he isn't lying and that I'm really not going to die.
Thresh disappears behind me, but I keep trudging forward, staggering more and more with each step.
After a bit, I realize that I now have an aversion to killing Thresh. That's annoying. District Five and Clove I can take out easily- Cato more than-, but after that Thresh is… I don't know what he is, but he at least tried to save my life and that means he's good. Good like Peeta, who I also don't want to kill half so much as I used to. Katniss likes him and good people don't deserve to die, and good God, I'm going to pretend that I didn't just admit to not wanting Peeta dead.
Impaired cognitive function my ass. This is much, much worse.
Oh well. I was going crazy anyway. Now I'm just going bat-shit crazy instead. My father always encouraged me to go all the way in everything I do, though I doubt he really considered this possibility. Then again, he probably already thought I was mad. He was probably right. I wonder if there's a word for when a crazy person is made crazier by outside factors that are beyond their control.
I hope this isn't permanent. The trouble focusing. Or the black spots in my eyes. God, and the headache. Especially that. Because if it is, I'll probably wind up worse than Annie Cresta. Although she is rather pretty. Maybe if I get out and Katniss decides I'm too crazy for her, I'll go after Annie instead. We can be mad together. That sounds like a rather good idea-
"Marvel!"
I jerk to attention. Peeta, who had been pointing a knife at me, lets out a relieved breath and lowers it. My eyes go from him to Katniss, who actually yelled my name. Her arm is burnt terribly, but I don't know how badly because I really can't focus.
"I'm going to pass out," I announce. I see Katniss's eyes widen as she takes in my appearance, and then I think her expression softens into one of guilt and worry.
"I'm so sorry. The smoke knocked me out and I just woke up. Peeta wouldn't let me go anywhere, but I've been so worried," Katniss says. She hovers her hand anxiously over my bloody chest, and, not realizing my arm has been stepped on by a wild beast, grabs it to pull me over to her. I half groan, half scream, and Katniss lets go immediately. "Sorry… I.. sit down. Please. You'll be fine."
"Know some outer district Voodoo?" I ask, taking her advice and sitting myself next to Peeta. "Because I think I'm going to need it."
"I wish," Katniss says. "Prim was always so good at this… I… just try to sleep. I know what I'm doing."
It really, really looks like she doesn't have the faintest idea, but I'm too miserable to protest. Praying that she's not going to accidentally kill me, I lean back in the grass, being careful not to move my arm any more than I have to. I'm exhausted, but I feel like shit to the point where I don't think I'll be able to fall asleep.
I don't. As Katniss tries getting my jacket off over my broken arm, the pain and blood loss conveniently knock me unconscious instead.