A/N: Hey-o everyone! Brand new HG one-shot! This was originally going to be just the first paragraph to show my writer buddies my gore-writing skills, but I liked it and continued on with it! I hope you guys like it too! Remember to favourite/follow/review, I love seeing notifications come up in my emails at school!
Cato leaped through the scraggy bushes, determined to find that traitor, Peeta. There he was, yelling at Katniss to run, to escape. Now I've got him. Cato tumbled towards Peeta, still woozy from the Tracker Jacker stings, sword raised in the air. Metal met flesh and soon enough, Peeta's leg had a deep cut, right to the bone that was already filling with blood.
The Career laughed, finding the situation rather funny. Did Peeta really think he'd get away from the 18-year old? Pathetic! The venom was clearly getting to his head. Cato felt rage rushing over him, angry with himself for letting Katniss get away. How many sponsors he would get if he killed the Girl on Fire. He'd be practically on the verge of victory at that point!
Cato's attention went back to the boy, who was frantically trying to get off the forest ground and escape. The Career wasn't going to let this District 12 boy get away from him this time. Cato lifted his sword, still slick with blood from the first wound it inflicted. He brought the blade down, his blue eyes narrowed down onto Peeta. The sword sliced cut through his shirt, just missing the boy who somehow managed to scramble back onto his feet.
"You are not getting away again, Lover Boy!" Cato hissed. He charged after Peeta, who was making a break for the concealed woods where he would surely lose the angry Career who was chasing after him.
Even though Peeta's leg was killing him-literally-he kept taking another step, ignoring the searing pain that accompanied the wound. He had to get away from the guy, he had to survive. Not for himself, not for his family. But for Katniss.
This where Cato wished he had trained more in long-range weapons. Take Clove for example. She could use her knives on Peeta both long-range and short-range. A sword isn't a bad choice, it kills quick and easy, it just has a disadvantage at range. A disadvantage that is causing Cato to lose Peeta.
Just as he thought, the District 12 boy had taken a quick turn around a tree and gotten away. Cato took his anger out on a nearby oak, slamming his boot into the bark. Only if the blade had gone a little more to the right and his kill count would've increased. Logic came to his head. Peeta couldn't survive that cut. It was already starting to ooze out bacteria. He gave himself a light laugh, excited for the night when he'll see the boys face in the night sky.
Meanwhile, Peeta was still crashing through the forest, eager to distance himself from Cato. The pain was excruciating, so bad it felt like the sword was still stuck in his leg. He had gained multiple cuts and bruises from random branches and unfortunate trips. After what felt like an hour of running that had slowed down to jogging, then eventually crawling, Peeta had found himself upon a river.
"This is a good place to die." he half-smiled.
Just in case Katniss had stumbled upon him while hunting squirrels or something, Peeta decided to try and preserve his life. Instead of leaving his body to rot by the stream, he mustered as much energy as he could and covered himself in mud and leaves. He had no way to check his appearance other than the glassy reflection of the water, which had taken on a murky appearance from the rocks below.
Using his bare hands, Peeta dug a hole and laid inside it, covering most of his body with the earth and flattening it to look natural. He worked on his face and arms, making sure to smear everything in the brown sludge.
His eyes could not bear to stay open any longer, so Peeta sunk into the ground, quickly drifting off to sleep in the mud, distant from Cato but inches away from death.