Song Suggestion: MsMr- "Bones"
Updated: 1/20/22
Of Beauty and Dirt
The twist never came. Someone grabbed the back of Cato's shirt and flung him into the snow.
Gale took his place in front of her shivering form. His whole face contorted in barely controlled anger.
"Are you—"
He didn't get to finish. Cato returned the favor, yanking him back and twisting him to the side. With a roar, Cato punched him in the face. Gale's head snapped sideways, but he wasted no time and knocked Cato straight back in the nose. A sickening crack, and Cato stumbled backward, clutching at his broken nose. Blood dripped down his lips and chin.
"Stay away from Prim." Gale clenched his fists in front of his body, ready for round two.
"Why should I fear a sewer rat? Get out my way before I skewer you." Cato spat some blood on the ground along with a chunk of white. Cato picked it up and stared at it in the light of the moon—a tooth. He glanced at Gale with fury colder than the world around them. "Never mind, it's too late for running. I'm going to carve out your heart."
And Cato could do it. She'd seen it. Fear for Gale outweighed fear for her own life.
But Gale just laughed.
"Sewer rat? Isn't that what you called Katniss? If I remember correctly, she outwitted you on more than one occasion. Maybe you shouldn't underestimate people. Besides, alcohol has slowed you down."
Cato rolled his head from side to side, stretching his shoulders. He stumbled in the snow, trying to catch his bearings.
"She may have posed a minor challenge, but in the end, she died like the rest."
"If you thought Katniss was hard to beat, consider me the real challenge."
Whatever intimidation Gale meant to contrive from that little speech, it didn't work on Cato.
"Oh Katniss, the love of everyone's life. Did you love her too?"
Gale's lips thinned in a grimace, making them pale as the snow with the pressure.
Cato's mouth opened with a sly smile. The blood on his teeth turned him into a demon.
"You did, didn't you? But I'm guessing she didn't fuck you like you wanted." He smirked, looking down at Gale's clenched hands. "It must have been hard wanting such a frigid bitch."
Prim could see his end goal. Cato was trying to bait Gale into acting with anger, acting irrationally. It was working.
"Don't say another word—"
"Did you cry when I killed her? Did you want to kill me?" He opened his arms with the proposal. "Well, here's your chance. Because if you don't take it now, it'll be too late. I'll kill the little bird out of spite." He smirked again, as if he knew exactly the buttons he was pushing. "Or, if I'm patient, there's other things I can do. A few more years, and I can do whatever I want. I think she might be pretty when she grows."
What did he mean by that?
"You can't!" Prim spoke up.
"Is that what you think, little bird? Death gave me your life as my reward. Every breath you take belongs to me."
He was right. If Cato wanted something, he was going to get it. The spoils go to the victor, especially one so well known as him. She just didn't understand what he meant. By Gale's furious expression, it was something terrible.
Cato tried to step towards her, but Gale threw himself at him. Their bodies smacked together, and they rolled a couple of turns in the packed snow. Then it was fists and knees and fingers. Neither had the upper hand. Like Gale said, alcohol slowed Cato. However, after a few minutes, even roiling drunk, Cato was getting in more hits. She could see who would win, and it caused anxiety to knock around her heart.
She needed to help but wasn't sure what to do.
Prim spotted a tree branch next to her. Part of it was rotting, but the other part was solid. It might slow him down enough for Gale to knock Cato out for the night, eliminating the threat of his presence for a few years, at the least.
The branch felt unsteady in her hands when she picked it up. Snow danced to the ground, and she trembled so bad the leaves rattled. Regardless, she raised the branch above her head, intending to bring down on Cato's head.
Prim clenched her eyes closed, not able to resist the pointless instinct to hide. What if I miss? Cato wouldn't spare her either way, but one way may be less painful.
Before she could make up her mind, the branch was ripped from her arms.
"Don't be foolish," a rough voice said above her
Prim twisted to find Brutus, Cato's mentor. If rumors were true, he was the only one Cato still feared. And she could see why. Scars mottled his face into contortions, seeming to have a permanent grimace. Enobaria wanted to make metal teeth to commemorate her winning; Brutus kept his scars. He stood taller than any men she had ever known. Think black hair fell into his eyes as he bent over and spoke directly in her face.
"Don't make things worse for yourself. Stay put."
Cato had Gale pinned beneath him in a vulnerable spot, with his knees pushing down Gale's arms, leaving his face open and defenseless. Over and over, Cato's fists came down full force on Gale's face. Gale hung limp under him. Blood freckled the white snow around his face.
Brutus walked over to the melee on the ground.
"You little fuck." Brutus ripped Cato's body off Gale and threw him to the side as if he was made of cotton instead of flesh and bone.
Cato, still in a blind fury, jumped up and attacked Brutus. He got in a few good hits, spilling a small amount of blood down his cheek and from his lip. The attack didn't last long. Cato might have got in a few cheap shots, but he was not a match for Brutus, especially drunk.
Brutus grabbed both his shoulders and hoisted his body up, trapping his arms to his sides, making him unable to move. Then he shook him, as a child would a little doll. A line of blood dripped from his mouth when Brutus flung him into the snow.
"Stupid little fuck." He kicked the Cato in the ribs, causing a loud groan. "I told you to stay inside and behave. Do you know how much is resting on your good behavior? Do you know what this could cost us? For what…"
Brutus stopped his assault abruptly and turned his head to glance a Prim, as if seeing her for the first time. After Brutus grabbed Cato, Prim had subconsciously edged her way over to Gale, who groaned on the ground, clutching his battered face. Prim kneeled next to him and brought his head into her lap, leaving a trail of blood to mar the purity of the snow.
Brutus didn't study her for long. He kicked Cato one last time in the ribs. Cato grunted and moaned, rolling over and spitting blood-tinged saliva on the ground.
"I'm going to leave you here in this bitch of a place until you think you've learned your lesson. Once you think you have, you can clean yourself up, act like a goddamn man, and participate in your celebration."
Cato didn't answer, just let his head plop back in the snow, head up to the stars, with an expression of great pain. Brutus wrinkled his lip in obvious disgust. He glanced back at Prim.
"The only Victor to ever win two games, and he spends his time terrorizing little girls." He shook his head. "Cato has many things to learn in life, and I'm certain he's going to learn them too late. Come, let's get you home, little girl."
"But what about Gale?"
Brutus looked at the battered boy in her arms. Then he sighed, deeply.
"Oh hell. I guess I'm already playing nanny to a useless creature, why not one more?"
Brutus leaned down and scooped up Gale's body as if he weighed nothing.
The trek back to their shack was long and cold. Each breath floated in wisps, saturating the air with dying warmth. They traveled in total silence. Brutus did not seem to be the type to make small talk; Gale was too hurt to speak; and Prim was rattled by what she just went through. The night was so cold, even the insects and birds were silent.
All the lights in the shack were off. Prim creaked the door open and struck a match, placing it in a small glass lantern. As the flames whooshed into existence, the light illuminated the dark innards of the shack, and Prim found her mother sitting in a chair next to the dying embers of a fire, staring into the glowing coals.
"Oh mother," she exclaimed. "I told you not to let the fire go out. You'll catch your death."
Brutus grunted behind her, and she turned to see him shifting the weight of Gale. The boy in his arms hung limp now, passed out. Prim's mind raced.
"Bring him over here."
She led him to a small alcove in the corner with a small bed nestled into the crevices. At least it used to feel small when Katniss shared it with her, but now it felt endless, as if she might be lost in the covers.
Brutus lowered the injured boy to the bed, and it was exactly this moment Prim realized how out of her element she was. Her mother was the one who worked magic on wounds. Prim wasn't sure what to do, but her mother might. If she could wake her from the fog…
"Can you get my mother?" The large giant looked as if he might protest, but he shook his head and headed to the fire.
"Wake up, woman." He shook her gently by the shoulder. When she didn't respond, he shook a little harder and turned her chin upwards, so the light illuminated her delicate features: her golden hair, her wide, blue eyes. A flash of something crossed the brute's face before vanishing.
"What's wrong with her? Her eyes are open, but…"
How could she explain her mother, her sadness, her inability to cope?
"She's been like this since Katniss died."
Prim didn't need to explain anymore. Brutus nodded.
"Is there anything she'll wake for?"
"Not much." Prim shrugged, feeling helpless again. Her mother had promised Katniss not to leave Prim like this.
Brutus furrowed his brows in thought, then smoothed them in an instant, a small smile on his lips.
"I know how to wake a woman."
Brutus dragged Prim's mother up by the shoulders, bent his face, and kissed her lips.
Her mother's eyes widened. In a second, she came alive. Her hand whipped faster than a fire, smacking against the brute's cheek, leaving a red stinging mark.
"How dare you!"
Brutus smirked for a moment before continuing his frown.
"Your daughter needs you."
Her mother seemed taken aback, as if this was all new information. As if she hadn't been sitting in the chair for the whole scene. She glanced towards the bed, her eyes still half glazed and red-rimmed.
"Oh Gale…"
Her mother came to Prim's rescue. She stepped aside and let her work.
Several Hours Later
Several hours later and her mother dropped back into her catatonic state, but at least Gale was on the mend. Several bags of fresh snow plastered themselves against his forehead and chest. He was awake but barely, eyes squeezed in pain with every movement. Prim brushed some strands of hair from his forehead, careful not to let her fingers linger too long, though she wanted to run them back behind his ears, wanted to trace the outline of his features for memory.
"He'll live." Brutus' gruff voice came from behind her. She almost jumped with the sudden noise but withheld it. "I've had worse and managed to survive."
She glanced up to view his face. For the first time, she noticed a few wounds marring his skin, almost hiding between the layers of old scar tissue.
"Here, sit down."
He gave a snort.
"I insist," she said again.
Prim stood up and offered the chair she was sitting in. Brutus frowned but obeyed, lowering himself against the old wicker. It groaned as if about to break but held steady.
Prim rummaged through the medicine bag and took out a jar filled with an amber jelly-like substance. It was a paste her mother made from various plants, including garlic. She never made an outright claim, but it helped ward off infections.
Holding the paste, she came back to Brutus, who raised one eyebrow.
"Don't worry. This won't sting at all. I just have to clean your wounds a bit."
"I'll live too, you know." He held up his arm to try and stop her, but it was half-hearted, and she pushed his hands aside.
Nothing stopped Prim when she saw something wounded in need of healing, not even the most fearsome man she'd ever seen. She dabbed a bit of ice to his wounds and watched as the newly re-hydrated blood started to drip before cleaning them with a white home-spun cloth. Some of the drier, stubborn areas had to be scrubbed off. Then she took a bit of the amber goop and smeared it against his skin, enfolding it into some of his other scars.
Prim couldn't stop herself from staring at them. They were hideous, ugly long things, traveling in various paths across a face which would have been well-defined and handsome.
"Why did you keep them?"
She probably shouldn't have asked that. It was a personal question, but she was intensely curious. What could entice a person to sacrifice their appearance?
"The game of the kill is based more on intimidation than on actual talent. I want everyone to remember what they should fear."
She agreed with him, but it didn't add up, because Brutus already had talent to spare. He didn't even need the scars to be intimidating—they were almost overdone.
He must have seen her hesitance, her disbelief, for he sighed.
"For Victors, good looks are a curse. Cato has had to learn his lesson, and I'm afraid it's taken its toll. He tried to lessen the appeal during these last games, but it didn't work. The capitol fixed it before it could get ugly, and it should fade to nothing in time. I fear he's going a bit mad with it all."
Tried to lessen the appeal? She remembered the scar across his nose. Brutus was right—it didn't lessen the appeal as much as the thought turned her stomach. There was no denying the sharp angles of his face and the sheer power lined in the ridges of his body. But what did he mean by beauty being a curse in his position? She wanted to ask, but Brutus didn't offer up an explanation, and she was too scared to pry.
Though he helped her, he was still a brute… from District 2.
She finished her work with the amber gel.
"I don't really need this." His eyes looked beyond her to her mother. He hadn't stopped staring at her the entire conversation.
"Well, I'm not made to sit by and allow any type of suffering."
He smirked. "Even a little kitten scratch?"
"Even a little kitten scratch."
He sat for second in silence while she finished.
"There, all done."
Brutus stood, looking uncomfortable with the attention and care he received.
"I should get going. I've been gone too long."
He brushed off imaginary dirt from his clothes after standing and within three big strides made it to the door. The wind whistled in when he opened it, battling against the wisps of flames still lingering in the coals.
"Wait," Prim said before he left. Brutus turned sharply. Prim dug through a small pouch on her hip where she kept the money from Lady's milk. She pulled a coin from her purse and snapped the purse shut quickly so he wouldn't see it was all she had. She held the coin out to him. "For helping me and Gale."
"I don't need your money, little thing. Use it to buy you something to eat. I know that even with Cato's meager offerings, you're still starving."
Yes, that was true. She hesitated, but when he refused to take it, she put it back in her purse. She sighed, not able to hold in her feelings now that the long night was nearing to a close.
"Brutus?"
He looked startled she used his name. Maybe it was because he didn't know hers.
"Cato's going to kill me one day, isn't he?"
"Cato's a fool. He'll probably get himself killed before he can get to you."
"But if he does have another chance? If Gale or you didn't interfere..."
She couldn't finish. Brutus looked thoughtful. All the scars in his face pulled together like wrinkles. He looked closely, studying her face. She became self-conscious and pulled at a pigtail.
"I wouldn't worry too much. Cato doesn't know what he's thrown dirt at yet, but he will." He gave a gruff laugh. "Give it a few years, and I'm afraid Cato may become conflicted."
She had no idea what he was talking about and was even more confused than before she asked a question.
"I don't understand."
He laughed at the back of his throat in amusement.
"Women rarely understand their power, but when they do, there's not much that can stop them." He glanced one more time at her mother.
"Pardon?"
He chuckled again, reaching out and ruffling the flyways on top of her head.
"Just remember, little thing. Beauty can be a curse, but it can also be a weapon. Yours will be a unique blade someday. I can promise that. Use it to your advantage." He smirked again. "I have a feeling we'll see each other someday soon."
He tipped his head and shut the door, leaving Prim confused and no less terrified of the future.