Know Your Enemy - Chapter 9
Peeta was bored out of his skull, and, so it seemed, were Clove, Cato and Marvel too. While they were all well aware that sitting around doing nothing does not make for very good television, none of the four remaining Careers could think of anything to do that was actually worth doing. Who'd have ever thought a battle for your life could ever be so… uneventful. Calm almost, and possibly even a little anticlimactic.
Clove was simply staring at the sky, the freckles that scattered their way across the bridge of her nose becoming increasingly prominent the longer she was out in the sun. Beside her Cato was sharpening his sword, and it appeared Marvel was sunbathing in the middle. Either that or he was sleeping, stretched out lazily on his back.
Peeta couldn't help but speculate how easy it would be to drive a sword through the other boy's stomach right now while he lay there, relaxed and vulnerable, his spear nowhere in sight. He would have done it, too, if not for the fact that they had an alliance and, more often than not, sponsors didn't like Tributes who betrayed their allies.
It wasn't worth losing Sponsors just because he was bored.
As for the District Three boy, well. They wouldn't know. As soon as he'd finished the mines he had mostly stayed silent and hidden away, but always close to hand when they needed his help. Peeta assumed this was a sign of his cleverness – the boy must know that the Careers no longer had any use for him, that now they'd just be looking for an excuse to kill him, so he stayed out of their way. Maybe he was hoping that they'd forget all about him entirely.
Peeta wondered if the boy would even have it in him to try and fight them when the time came, or whether he'd attempt to run away before it did. Probably not. It was like he had already accepted that this was his fate, didn't even consider opposing it. Perhaps he knew there was no point trying to fight the inevitable. He couldn't win this.
Suddenly the silence was broken by Clove's excited gasp.
"Look over there!" She shot up on her feet and pointed towards a plume of dark grey smoke emerging from the trees. "It's like they knew how bored we were!"
At this, she giggled and clapped her hands together. Cato grinned animalistically, Marvel whooped and even Peeta felt some sort of excitement stirring in the depths of his stomach. At least he wasn't just going to sit around ignoring Cato for another hour.
"Three, w-" Cato began to call the boy, but he was there before he could finish. He didn't meet the older boy's eyes, being the most intimidated by Cato, just nodded to the ground and pulled out a spear to rest on his lap, and then began to survey the trees expectantly. At least he was eager to impress.
Clove looked at him with a sort of fondness that you would with a pet before shaking her head and waving goodbye to him, which the little boy returned with a wide, shy smile. Then the four of them took off in the direction of the smoke, none of them able to keep the smiles off their faces. Even Marvel looked happy, for once. They had a purpose.
Arriving at the clearing where the fire was burning merrily, they made an effort to be quiet as they approached. Hiding in the trees for a few moments, they started to grow confused. Where was the tribute? Peeta peered around the area. There was no sign of anyone. After a few moments of waiting, Marvel huffed and strode into the clearing cockily, spear poised to attack, laughing. No one bothered to warn him that it could be a trap. They wanted to see for themselves if it was. However, no one showed.
"Maybe they just forgot to put the fire out?" Clove suggested in a low voice, hope creeping into her voice as they all continued to peer around. At this stage in the contest, it seemed unlikely. In an environment like this, you quickly learned that even the smallest mistake could get you killed. You don't make mistakes here.
Then again, there were still some stupid kids out there. Foxface was still alive, after all. Sure, the ones that didn't know basic rules of survival had mostly been wiped out, but there were bound to be others that did know them and just forgot them. The Games put you under so much pressure that you just forget simple common sense.
Peeta nodded. "Yeah, that must be it!"
They had just turned to head back to their camp when they spotted another plume of smoke curling its way up from the trees. Instantly the group gained back the same excitement as they had earlier, the familiar thrill of a hunt coursing through them. How stupid did one person have to be? They were just asking for it, really.
For once, Peeta couldn't even find it in himself to feel guilty.
By the third fire, the enthusiasm had started to die, but when it got to the fourth fire with no tributes lying in wait, they were all tired, angry and irritated, only just realising that they had been led on a wild goose chase.
Cato genuinely wanted to kill someone. It's not that this was anything particularly rare for him or anything, but it was just more of a burning desire than usual. He'd had Peeta ignoring him since the night before (not that he wasn't doing the same to the other boy) instead of just talking to him, and that stupid ass Marvel trying to talk down to him all day. Now some stupid little punk was playing some sort of game with him? He wanted to kill somebody.
He clutched his sword so tightly it hurt, knuckles whitening from the tight hold on the handle. The pain of this made him uptight, on edge, but it served to remind him of exactly where he was and exactly who was watching his every move. Somehow it helped him to contain his emotions and keep some of the anger inside, forced him to calm down before he lashed out and did something he'd regret. He still had some control, at least.
Then a chorus of deafening "BOOM"s filled the air. This time, it was not the familiar sound of the cannon – it was much louder, much more real and tangible. Closer.
"What the fuck was that?" Marvel covered his ears and grimaced, looking about him at where the sound came from. The direction of their camp. Peeta felt uneasy. Without further ado, he led the sprint back, tracing the familiar path back through the trees as quickly as he could.
Of course, everything was destroyed. The food had been blown sky high, the spare supplies blown to smithereens, broken into rubble that lay littered across the ground. Even the tent was damaged beyond repair, a huge gaping hole blown into its side, the once-green material now singed a rancid black. Some of the few precious weapons they had been saving were gone and all five of the sleeping bags lay in pieces on the floor.
The mines had exploded.
At the heart of the scene, in the middle of the destruction, the boy from District Three stood quivering. It was obvious he was crying. His fear made him look even smaller.
As soon as they got near enough to hear him, he began trying to explain himself.
"I heard something over there-" He pointed, his finger shaking. "And I went - I went to go and look then everything went everywhere and it was so loud and I can't hear - I can't-"
Cato didn't have any time for sympathy as he charged over to the terrified boy who was shaking like a leaf, floods of tears streaming down his face. His face was contorted into an expression pure rage, understandably so. Even Clove didn't try and stop him. As Cato grabbed his face roughly between his hands, the boy squeaked. He must've known this was it. The end.
"Pleas-"
He didn't manage to get his last shaky word out before Cato was twisting his head harshly, easily breaking his neck. The boy's limp body dropped to the ground with a dull thud and a cannon sounded. Dead.
Not even sparing a backwards glace towards the boy he had just murdered, Cato stormed over to the wreckage, throwing things around, an exercise in futility. No one tried to stop him. What could they do? In all honesty, they all felt slightly scared of the blond boy once more, Peeta especially. He could fly off the handle so easily, so quickly. There was no telling who or what he'd take his rage out on. One thing was for certain, though. Something would suffer.
With a sigh, he looked over to watch Cato pound his fist into a tree. Good. At least he was taking his rage out that way, on something that couldn't fight back. He bit his lip. Uncertain of what to do, Peeta glanced over at Clove for guidance, but she was staring at her District partner with the same bemusement and unease that he felt.
Marvel, however, didn't look at all bothered as he smirked over at Peeta and Clove. "Leave him to have his little temper tantrum." He scoffed. Peeta didn't quite hear what he said next because he'd lowered his voice so drastically, but he was sure he that he heard Marvel mutter to himself "What a baby."
Since when was he so cocky? A week ago, the boy would have never dared to breathe a word of insult against the great Lord Cato.
Peeta was about to say something to this effect, angrily walking closer to the boy, but Clove beat him to it. "I'd suggest you keep your stupid thoughts to yourself if you want to stay in the alliance much longer." She whispered threateningly into his ear. "I do hope that Cato didn't hear what you just said, because now that he's in one of those 'temper tantrums', I'm sure he'd have no qualms about sticking his sword through your stomach."
She smiled nastily at him and Peeta laughed with her. The other boy just stuck his nose up in the air, pretending not to be intimidated, but didn't say another bad word against the leader of their group. Distancing themselves from him, the other two walked out of Marvel's earshot to quietly discuss what to do next out.
"I think we need to deflect his anger somehow." Clove bit her lip. Her eyes were a little red and she seemed a little less composed for usual. Noticing this, Peeta was reminded at how much she had cared for the younger boy from Three. Even if she'd never openly admitted it, it had been obvious enough.
He didn't say anything to comfort her though, just pretended not to notice. There was nothing he could say. They'd all known it was only a matter of time, right from the start. Maybe it was best that he had died so quickly. At least it had been quick and painless.
In an attempt to distract himself from his morbid thoughts, he turned his attention back to the matter at hand. "Maybe we need to find another tribute?" he suggested after a moment's thought. The two exchanged a glance, and looked back to where Cato was throwing the broken bits of their supplies everywhere again, his manic growls and shouts echoing in the air. He looked absolutely insane.
"Maybe you're right," Clove agreed, and Peeta nodded, answering his own question.
"I'll go and hunt one down. You stay here and make sure he doesn't kill Marvel." He pulled a face. "Or whatever."
It took a lot of effort to bite back the comment about how it wouldn't be much of a loss from the tip of his tongue. If he said it out loud, it might be too tempting to just tell Cato to kill the other boy.
Clove shook her head violently. "You can't go hunting on your own, you'll get killed! And apart from that, there's no fucking way you're doing that now, not when he's in this mood. You know he'd rip me to shreds for letting you go!"
"Trust me, I'll be fine." He assured her. She looked indignant, like she was about to interrupt, so he hastened to add an explanation. "Look, one of us needs to find a Tribute and I'd rather it was me than you. Cato's not even talking to me at the moment, so there's absolutely no point in me staying with him."
Clove rolled her eyes. Neither boy had bothered to explain to her what had happened between them, but they were both so painfully obvious that she hadn't even felt the need to ask. "At least take Marvel with you."
"I'm not taking Marvel," he replied bluntly, not even bothering to hide his disgust. "I can't leave you here alone with Cato when he's in this mood."
"Looks like there's only one solution then." Clove grinned. "I'm coming with you."
"You think he'll be okay here with Marvel?" He had to ask, although if he were perfectly honest, it would probably be the best if Cato were just to kill him now. One less thing to worry about.
Clove raised an eyebrow. "Let's just say Marvel wouldn't be the biggest loss." They smiled at each other and had to suppress a laugh. "Come on, let's get a move on."
They quickly told Marvel where they were going, who just nodded, seemingly uninterested. He was too busy picking his nails with that damned spear. Peeta shivered in disgust, making his way into the trees with Clove as quietly as possible. Not quietly enough, though, as they barely made it three paces into the woods before Cato stopped them.
"Where the hell are you two going?" Came his angry shout, along with a toss of debris in their direction. It probably shouldn't have been funny, Peeta thought, but he was having a hard time keeping the smile off his face. He bit his lip to suppress his giggle as Clove quickly explained their plan (omitting the detail about the whole thing being a plot to make him calm the hell down), cringing slightly at being caught.
Cato didn't even reply when she finished, he just picked up his sword and stormed out ahead of them. It was clear he'd be accompanying them, then. Seeing this, Marvel actually volunteered to keep watch for once with a wide smirk on his face. Somehow he always managed to get out of actually doing anything useful.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to be watching." He laughed loudly in his self-satisfied way. "The grass? The lake?" He gestured about the ruins of their former camp. "It's not like there's anything left here to lose. Have fun on your hunt, Lover Boy."
Peeta frowned deeply at the return of his old nickname and Marvel smirked, his eyes glinting maliciously as he sent the other boy a wink. Just as Peeta opened his mouth to snap back some sort of retort, Clove called him, urging him to hurry the hell up.
Turning, he just about caught sight of her chasing frantically after Cato. With a last apprehensive glare in Marvel's direction, he hurried after the two of them quickly, reminding himself that he could only solve one problem at a time. The annoying boy before him could wait until later. Right now, calming Cato down had to be priority.
He'd had to run to catch them up, following the trail of destruction Cato seemed to leave in his wake as he tore through the trees. After around ten minutes of aimlessly (and loudly) scouring the thick branches and green leaves for a Tribute, the party decided to split up.
"We can cover all bases, then." Clove suggested reasonably. "As long as we don't go too far, it should be okay. Just shout if you need help." She directed this to Peeta in particular, knowing that Cato was probably not listening. He was too busy huffing and panting in frustration. It was kind of really weird.
With that they parted ways, Clove going one way and Peeta going the other.
As for Cato… Peeta wasn't even sure what the other boy was doing. Angsting, apparently. He'd just continued barreling on through the trees as if the other two didn't exist when they told him they were going to split.
Sighing, Peeta tried to focus on the hunt rather than worrying about the other boy. Sometimes he forgot that Cato was big and strong, and that he could look after himself. It was easy to do so when he acted like such a kid the whole time.
Just as Peeta got into the zone, creeping silently around twigs and branches, on careful lookout for movement, he heard the shrill scream of a girl. Clove.
"Cato!" She shouted. "Peeta!"
Panicking, he ran clumsily towards the direction of the shriek, nearly tripping over a large branch in his wake, stumbling but just about managing to keep his footing. He had to get to her on time. He'd never forgive himself if he didn't. When he heard the familiar 'BOOM' of the cannon, he just sped up, adrenaline driving him faster than ever before. He felt sick, bile rising in his throat. He ran through it.
It couldn't be Clove, he refused to believe it. She was too strong to die.
He shouted her name as he ran, growing frantic. "Peeta!" he heard her call back just moments later, her voice still desperate. Relief coursed through him instantly. She wasn't dead. He knew she wouldn't be. That meant that someone else was, though. Refusing to let himself even think that the cannon might have been for Cato, he ran on. Hopefully Marvel had tripped and impaled himself on his spear or something. That would be a real stroke of luck.
When he found Clove, she was laying in a ditch surrounded by leaves, face contorted with pain. There was a massive spike of tree bark sticking out of her leg, clearly some sort of snare – set up compliments of Katniss, no doubt. Peeta felt the familiar stab of frustration when it came to the other girl. If she'd just died, goddamn it, this competition would be a whole hell of a lot easier.
He knelt down by Clove who attempted to smile at him gratefully. It came out as more of a grimace. "This is a fucking joke." She grit her teeth, refusing to cry. Not in front of the Sponsors. "What even is this?"
He rolled his eyes, reaching out to hold one of her shaking hands. They always pretended to be so strong, her and Cato. She squeezed his fingers tightly. "It's going to hurt a lot when I take this out." He warned her. "But it has to be done so we can clean it." She tightened her grip, nodding.
Just then Cato rushed around the corner, grin firmly in place. He was carrying a bundle of cloth and Peeta could see a rope poking out. He must've killed the tribute from Seven and taken their supplies. He felt a vague stab of relief that the cannon was for someone he didn't have an emotional attachment to.
When the older boy caught sight of Clove's predicament he froze in place, his grin twisted into an expression of shock, dropping the bundle on the floor and rushing to kneel at the side of her. "Is - is she gonna be okay?" He asked Peeta bluntly, his wide eyes locked on the gaping wound in his friend's leg.
"Yeah." He answered quietly. "We'll need to take her back to camp and clean her up, but first, I need to take this out." He chewed his lip nervously. "Hold her other hand."
Clove was frustrated, her face tight with the effort of holding herself together. She seemed to be in too much in pain to say anything, as if she didn't want to open her mouth in fear of showing how much she was hurting. She grabbed Cato's hand without deliberation, knowing she would probably need it no matter how strong she was when it came to pain.
Peeta took the fast approach. When she signalled that she was ready with a slight nod, he took a firm grip on the spike and yanked it out in its entirety. She hissed in pain but kept her eyes tightly closed so as not to appear weak. Good. They needed all the sponsors they could get, what with all their supplies gone.
He felt overwhelmingly proud of her as he laid the bloody bark aside, smiling slightly. "We're gonna have to take you to camp. Lean on us if you need to." He helped her up and he and Cato shared a look of silent understanding before grabbing one of her arms each, looping them around their necks and helping her limp back.
They were worried about Clove. She wasn't complaining, but her wound was steadily bleeding out, the pristine white bandage they had secured on it getting redder with every passing minute. Of course, the Gamemakers had decided this would be the perfect opportunity for them to test out the borderline-freezing weather conditions. The girl was extraordinarily cold, but Cato had managed to salvage a sleeping bag from the dead tribute earlier, so at least that was helping.
That wasn't all. Although Peeta had cleaned it as soon as they got back to camp, the wound had somehow become infected, clearly shown by the swelling and the putrid yellow pus that would occasionally leak out. Peeta wasn't a healer by any means so he had no clue what that would signify. He'd have a good guess that it wasn't a good sign, though.
By sunset, when he went to change her bandages again he noticed the dark red bruising leading up from her wound along her leg. Even he knew what that signified. Blood poisoning.
She'd be dead within a matter of days. He didn't know whether Clove would recognise it herself, so chose not to say anything. He didn't want to worry her.
"You're not being very talkative." He smiled at her as he secured the bandage, attempting to engage her in normal conversation. "How are you feeling?"
She looked at him incredulously, remaining silent. Okay, so maybe it was a bit of a stupid question. Her leg had been impaled on a piece of wood, it's hardly like she was going to be feeling wonderful. "I just mean... are you hurting? Is there anything I can do?"
He looked so genuinely concerned as he scrutinized her face, so damn worried that she couldn't help but soften. "The pain… it's not too bad." She near whispered, but her tight face told a different story. "Peeta… I-" She looked terrified for a fraction of a second, reminding Peeta quite how young she was. "Is it really bad?"
Peeta looked into her eyes, blown wide with fear but her expression still blank to try and convince the world - and herself - that she was calm, and he didn't have the heart to tell her the depth of her injury. "It's not bad." He smiled encouragingly. "You'll be fixed up in no time. Just go to sleep and rest that leg."
Ruffling her hair affectionately, he climbed to his feet and away from her. Slowly approaching Cato, he decided he had to tell the other boy about Clove's predicament, no matter how much he wanted to avoid him. It couldn't stay awkward between them forever, what kind of alliance would that be?
When he approached, the boy was standing with his arms folded, teeth worrying down on his lip, an anxious habit he'd picked up from Peeta somewhere along the course of the past few days. Peeta was extremely aware of the fact that they hadn't really spoken since the night before in the tent, when he'd kissed the other boy again. Even then, that had pretty much been a one-sided conversation. It felt like a million years ago now.
"Cato," he whispered urgently, not wanting Clove to hear. The boy turned to him, arching an eyebrow back at him in question. Peeta frowned, wishing he'd just say something. "She's... uh. I think, well, actually I'm pretty sure... Cato, I think she's got blood poisoning." He was stuttering over his words, something he hadn't done that since he was a little kid.
Damn it, why was he so nervous?
For a fraction of a second, Cato's expression was one of fear before he schooled it quickly into a blank, calm mask. Pretending not to care. "And?"
"She's probably got around a day. Maybe two. I don't know." He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "There's nothing we can do – we haven't got the materials, no supplies. We don't even have anti-septic."
"But we have spons-" Cato began to argue, before Peeta cut him off with a disbelieving look.
No matter how many sponsors they have, the medicine they needed would be astronomical in price, and that would have been the case from the very first day. What made it worse was that the further into the Games time progressed, the higher the costs of gifts. It would take all of their sponsors pooled together to scrape the money together for just a tiny amount of the medicine. Besides, they'd already got the parachute full of bandages earlier. There's a limit to people's generosity.
"You know how expensive things are in the Games, right?"
Cato nodded, sighed and rubbed his temple in frustration, subconsciously mimicking Peeta's body language. The other closed his eyes for a moment, looking away, trying to figure out what they could possibly do to save the dying girl.
"Maybe it's for the best," Cato began, his face scrunching up as he spoke, like the words physically pained him to say. "This way, none of us have to kill each other, she'd just…"
"Don't," Peeta cut him off. "Don't try and make that the bright side, here. That's just giving up too easily. We're going to save her, you hear me? She's not going to die."
Cato was about to speak, his mouth opened slightly, but this time it was the sound of the Capitol anthem blaring across the arena that interrupted him. The two exchanged a look of confusion. It wasn't the right time to broadcast the deaths of the Fallen yet – it was around two hours too early, and the Capitol seal didn't appear in the sky.
"Good evening tributes!" crooned a voice from the skies, and Peeta instantly recognized it to belong to Head Gamemaker, Seneca Crane. His voice was distinctive, cheerful but not imbued with the same affected accent as so many Capitol citizens had acquired.
Peeta knew from watching other years that it was not unusual for the Gamemakers to interact with the Tributes during The Games. If there weren't enough fighting, a lull in activity, they would intervene and try to stir things up in the arena a little, trying to set their remaining contestants up for confrontation.
"We understand that many of you are in dire need of some help – help that might seem...out of reach." This year was no exception, it seemed, and Peeta nodded uncertainly to the sky, though he was not sure why. He had an inkling of where Crane was going with this, and it gave him an edge of hope that he forced himself to swallow.
"We've made the generous decision to provide you with that much-needed help." Here, the man paused for dramatic effect, and Peeta imagined the wide smile that he would be sporting. Briefly he wondered when he had begun to respect and even like the man who was controlling his fate, and ultimately, his death. It was probably back when he gave him that eleven, and in doing so evened out Peeta's odds. He wouldn't be with the Careers without it.
"Tomorrow, at sunrise, there will be a feast at the Cornucopia. At the feast will be a package labeled with the number of the District you... or, in some cases, the person that you are helping resides in. Good luck tributes, and may the odds be ever in your favor."
Peeta slowly felt his lips curl upwards until they had grown into a smile that stretched from ear to ear. Cato's expression mirrored his own and they began to laugh loudly, relief flooding their being. Maybe the laughter had an edge of hysteria, but that didn't matter right now. They could easily get the medicine for Clove. Of course they could. Between them, they were the strongest tributes in the arena.
They wouldn't – couldn't – stop laughing until their stomachs were hurting, Peeta keeled over clutching at his sides, gasping for breath. Cato whooped loudly and almost galloped over to Clove, which just made Peeta laugh harder. Even the girl joined in slightly, until it began to hurt a little, at which point she resigned herself to just smiling widely and shaking her head at the two boys and their antics.
Right now, none of the problems between him and Cato were relevant. They didn't matter. Why would they? All that mattered was that they could save Clove. They could save her.
Unsurprisingly, Marvel didn't join in on the celebrations, his permanently snooty expression simply contorting into one of irritation at the sight of the others. Maybe this was why Cato assigned him to be the one who stayed back and looked after Clove the next day, knowing that he would hate not being able to get in on the action that was sure to be happening at the feast. Although he didn't exactly protest this, he did give Cato a look of death that was meant to be threatening but, of course, he would never have the guts to act upon it.
Hope can only keep you cheerful for so long when you could die at any second and within the hour, everyone had calmed down some. Exhausted, Clove had retired just ten minutes after the announcement, only warning them to "Be careful," and "Look out for each other or I'll kill you."
Even though they were sure to be able to help her, it sounded strangely like a goodbye. Peeta watched as she turned away, her back to the fire, and fell asleep.
Without Clove awake to take care of and worry about, the Careers found they had little to say to say to each other. Cato and Peeta were now both back to pretending that the other didn't exist, but every now and again one of them would secretly steal a glance at the other, as if to check they were still there, still close. A little way away Marvel was just sat there on the floor, fiddling with his spear again.
After a while he crawled away from them further still, huffing loudly with each move he made. He seemed unsure of what to do with himself without their tent. He hadn't trained for this. Back at the academy in his District, survival skills took a back seat to weaponry. You're meant to fight your way to the supplies and then keep them, not get them blown up.
Sighing pointedly back at the two boys, he lay down with his arms folded petulantly across his chest. He was irritated, uncomfortable and took absolutely no responsibility for what had happened to their supplies, just angled his body as far away from the other three as he possibly could, trying to silently convey his irritation.
Once again there was no offer from him to keep watch. Of course there wasn't.
Peeta wondered whether he should offer, but he assumed by Cato's rigid body sat next to the fire that the boy wanted to do it alone. That was probably for the best. Now was no time for the two of them to be fighting. Besides, he'd had hardly any sleep the past few days, and he'd need to rest up if he wanted to be at his strongest the next day at the feast.
In spite of this, he still found himself hesitating for a few seconds before sighing, turning to head over to sleep beside Clove.
"Peeta," At the soft utter of his name, he spun around in shock. He hadn't expected the other boy to address him unless it was absolutely necessary. "Here..." Cato reached down to grab a bundle of material that sat at his feet, casually tossing it towards the other boy. It was a jacket. Peeta's jaw dropped open, and Cato shrugged back at him before explaining further. "I picked it up from the kid from seven earlier, and I remembered that you didn't have one."
So he was still looking out for him, even if they weren't strictly on speaking terms. If that wasn't enough to make him happy, the promise of the extra warmth throughout the night was. Peeta smiled. "Thanks, Cato."
Cato nodded almost imperceptibly, a half smile threatening to appear on his face, which is why he ducked his head away to stare into the woods. "Whatever, it was nothing. Go and get some rest, I'll wake you up in a few hours."
Tugging on the jacket, Peeta nodded and made his way over to Clove, tucking himself in at her side. She shifted in her sleep, groaning in pain as she instinctively moved closer to him. With the extra warmth of her body beside him and the jacket to hold off the chill, he fell asleep nearly as soon as his head hit the floor.
From the other side of the fire, Cato was too preoccupied with watching the two of them sleep to notice Foxface slip past him, nimbly skipping through their camp and into the Cornucopia in preparation for the feast the next morning. One thing was for sure - it was going to be one hell of an eventful day. It had to be. Only seven Tributes remained.
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