Know Your Enemy - Chapter 11


If the change hadn't been a result of one of his best friend's deaths, Peeta would have laughed at how much things could distort themselves overnight in the arena. It was like things had reversed, the powerful going to the powerless quicker than you could blink. Just that morning, they had been the most formidable contestants in the entire competition. Careers. They thought that they were untouchable. Maybe that was what had made them so complacent.

Maybe that was why Clove was dead.

He couldn't help but remember how had they had sprinted off to the Cornucopia, truly believing that they could save her. Now look at them, alone together without even a fire to keep them warm. It was too dangerous to light a fire now, tucked away here amongst the trees. Unlike before, where no one would dare to even venture near their campsite, they no longer had the resources or the manpower they needed to fend off potential attacks.

Honestly, being stabbed in their sleep by Thresh wasn't something that sounded particularly appealing to either of them so, for the first time since they had entered the arena, the pair found themselves in hiding out in the woods, as far away from their previous camp as they dared to go.

It was weird, just the two of them, weird and strangely quiet. Every now and again, Peeta would catch himself about to make a snide comment about Marvel, or glancing around the new, unfamiliar clearing for Clove or even the boy from Three. Then he'd remember that they were all dead. It hardly made for a cheerful atmosphere.

To distract himself and prepare them for the night ahead, Peeta had dug up some roots, camouflaging them both the same dirt-brown and greens as the forest around them while Cato pretended not to be impressed by the boy's talent.

"Where did you learn to do that?" he asked stiffly, watching closely as his own hand turned from creamy white to khaki under Peeta's gentle touch.

"Unlike some people who were preoccupied with scaring the hell out of everyone, I actually noticed that there was a camouflage station in the Training Center." Peeta kept his tone light and teasing, and the other boy scoffed and glared back at him. In that moment, things almost felt like they were back to normal.

"Wait, that doesn't make sense." Cato suddenly sat up and looked right at him, his expression growing confused as his eyebrows knitted together above his soft blue eyes. "You didn't go to that station either, I would have noticed if you did."

"What, were you watching me or something?" Only half-joking, Peeta couldn't quite keep the hint of curiosity out of his voice or the small smirk from his face.

Cato blushed. "Maybe," he mumbled, looking away. "Don't flatter yourself, though, it wasn't like that. I was watching everyone, okay? It's not like it was just you or anything. I had to, you know, to get a good idea of my competition in the arena or whatever."

"Sure you did." Peeta grinned back at him, clearly unconvinced, and Cato scowled at his insincerity. Ignoring this, the boy just reached up to smudge a deep green streak across the other's cheek, laughing at the the way his face scrunched up in disgust.

"Get off me!" Cato tried to growl the words in a threatening manner, but he sounded more like an irritated kitten that had been robbed of its perfect napping spot. Peeta only laughed harder. "Shut up. You didn't answer my question."

"You're right." The boy took a deep, calming breath to rid himself of his temporary hysteria before continuing. "I didn't go to the station during training, no, but I knew it was there. I watched a few other people talking to the instructors, and figured out how it worked from that. I guessed I'd be pretty good at this, seeing as I help to decorate the cakes back home." He shrugged modestly. "It's not all that different really."

"Oh." Cato stared down at his arm. It blended into their surroundings perfectly, so much so that he wouldn't have noticed it was there if it weren't, you know, attached to his torso. "That's kind of cool."

"Thanks." Peeta had to restrain himself from getting too excited by the praise, knowing that compliments from the other boy were pretty hard to come by. Just because they were friends, it didn't mean he shouldn't play it cool. "Are you done with the inquisition now? I need you to hold still so I can finish off covering your face."

"Why would you want to conceal a face this beautiful?" Cato demanded, mock-hurt. Rather than laughing it off or rolling his eyes like the boy expected him to, Peeta simply stared back at him, eyes carefully tracing every line and freckle and contour of his face. It was like he was committing it to memory or something. When the silence started to get uncomfortable, Cato cleared his throat. "What are you staring at? Is there something on my face?"

"What?" Peeta blinked, momentarily confused, and then shook his head. "No, there isn't. I was just… just figuring out the best way to cover it up. Don't move, okay? This shouldn't take a minute." Beside him, Cato nodded once. Peeta could feel it when he tensed all of his muscles, posture becoming rigid, locked in place.

The boy was stretched out on his back, propped up on his elbows, chin tilted up slightly to offer Peeta the best access as he leant over him. He could feel Cato's piercing blue gaze on him as he worked, carefully rubbing the makeshift paint across the boy's soft skin in streaks and swirls that mirrored the leaves and the trees.

When he finished, he sat back to admire his handiwork. "How do I look?" Cato asked, pouting his lips out dramatically under Peeta's critical eye. "Am I still gorgeous?"

"No. You look like the mutant offspring of two trees."

Rolling his eyes, Cato mumbled something about how he'd bet anything that his tree-parents would be the hottest trees in the forest. Waggling his eyebrows, he said, "I'm sure their trunks are pretty sturdy, too. Nice and reliable, strong, tough and hard to break."

Weirdly enough, that did sound strangely fitting.


As dusk enveloped what little light from day that remained in the arena, twilight reaching its gloomiest, the two boys piled all that remained of their supplies into a messy bundle in the middle of the clearing. They didn't have a lot, just five of Clove's small knives, two daggers, three swords, two water skins, a pack of matches and some water purifier alongside several other gifts from sponsors, one sleeping bag and a bulky backpack filled with rope.

It wasn't much, but it would have to do.

Setting up camp had been easy enough after that - it was hardly going to be a long process with so few supplies - but as they settled in for the night, it became painfully obvious how much harder the games truly were when you weren't with the Careers.

There was no fire, no large group of people to switch over shifts when keeping watch at night and no tower-high stack of supplies to turn to. Honestly, Peeta had no idea how Katniss had managed to survive out here on her own for so long with just that weak little girl from Eleven for company. He knew for sure that he couldn't have.

Exhausted both emotionally and physically, all the two boys wanted to do was close their eyes and fall asleep forever. Of course, in the arena things were never that simple. One of them still had to stay up and keep watch. To make matters worse, it seemed the Gamemakers had decided to punish the remaining Tributes further still by lowering the temperature to below freezing. As if they hadn't suffered enough for one day.

"Hey, Peeta." From where he sat a little way away, Cato called out to him softly. "You look pretty tired. Go and get some sleep, I'll take the first watch."

"No way, don't be so stupid." The boy shook his head firmly. "You took watch the whole of last night, and I know for a fact that you haven't slept in like, two days or something crazy like that." Cato grimaced at this, not even trying to deny it. "Look, I'll take watch. I owe you one anyway. You go to sleep."

Cato sighed a little, knowing better than to argue with the other boy about this. It would be pointless, considering that Peeta was undeniably right. He was too tired to fight a losing battle so he gave in, reaching out for the only sleeping bag they had and hesitantly climbing into it. Safely tucked away inside, he let his eyes slowly drift shut.

He didn't want to sleep, though. In all honesty, he'd been avoiding it ever since that snare had injured Clove, worried about what nightmares might plague his subconscious mind. At least when he was awake he could fend off the memories, force the overwhelming sense of loss and guilt he felt out of the foreground of his mind by focusing on the competition, surviving and Peeta. Asleep, he had no control of what he did or didn't remember.

Not having control. That scared him.

"Stop worrying so much," Peeta instructed suddenly, as if he could read Cato's mind. "You need to relax." Peeking an eye open, he saw that the boy was watching him intently from across the clearing. "Seriously, you're never going to get to sleep if you tense up like that."

Nodding, Cato willed his muscles to relax, just to put the other boy's mind at ease. Of course, he wasn't planning on actually sleeping, but he knew Peeta would be annoyed if he didn't at least pretend to. It would be a hell of a lot easier if his body wasn't so damn rigid.

Thinking back to that time his parents sent him to anger management classes when he was twelve, after he smashed the windows of the girl who tried to kiss him's house (he'd still swear that was perfectly justified and that she deserved it), he tried to recall the meditation techniques they taught him there. You're in a field. Everything is peaceful. Breathe in. Breathe out. When it didn't work, he huffed loudly in frustration. He'd said it at the time and he'd say it again now. Meditation was a load of crap.

Then he heard Peeta chuckle, closer than before. "Shut up," he muttered, indignant, eyes snapping open to fix the other boy with a glare. "This so isn't funny."

"Sorry," he said seriously. "I know it isn't." He shifted in place so that he was sitting just a few inches away from where Cato's head rested on the ground and wait, what? When had he even gotten close enough to do that? "Just try and get some sleep, okay? I'll be right here if you need me."

Nodding again, he had to bite back the urge to ask just exactly what made him think that Cato needed him. There was no point in being rude about it. It's not like he'd be fooling anyone, so he just closed his eyes once more, focused on the rhythmic sound of Peeta's quiet breathing beside him. Maybe if he concentrated hard enough, he'd be able to hear the steady thump of the boy's heart as it pounded in his chest.

Smiling, Peeta watched as the older boy fell asleep.


It was cold, really cold and Peeta shivered violently. Under his flimsy jacket his arms were covered in goose bumps, chills ran up and down his spine and his teeth chattered together. Every time he inhaled the frozen air stung his nose and each breath he let out curled around him in a frosty white mist. Tugging the material tighter around his shoulders, he rubbed his palms together to get the circulation back into them. The last thing he needed was frostbite.

A few hours had passed since Cato had fallen asleep, wrapped up warm inside the thickly insulated sleeping bag. Every now and again he would toss or turn over in his sleep, a frown marring his peaceful expression. His forehead was slicked with a light sheen of sweat. Peeta watched him worriedly, wondering whether to wake him up from any nightmares or to just let him rest. Eventually he settled on the latter, knowing that the boy desperately needed to sleep.

Frustrated, he hugged his arms around his chest and curled inward on himself. He hated being so cold and helpless. The Gamemakers must be doing this to taunt him, knowing that having only one sleeping bag would mean that Peeta would have had to share with the other boy – he could just as easily climb in there with him as he could kiss the boy again. He didn't, though. He couldn't risk making a fool of himself this late in the game.

When a light whistle of a snore came from his side, Peeta smiled in spite of himself. Maybe Cato had finally relaxed. He looked over at his face, which was almost eerily white, glowing in the moonlight in the places which Peeta didn't cover properly. His slow puffs of breath didn't immediately turn to frost like Peeta's did, and his cheeks beneath the makeshift paint would probably be pink and flushed.

He sighed, but couldn't find it in himself to be irritated at the boy's comfort. No matter how freezing he was, he couldn't. Instead, he just rubbed his arms together again. This was going to be a long night.


His muscles were stiff and aching as a result of barely moving throughout the night. After around an hour of shifting about, he'd gotten himself into the position that gave him the most warmth. He wasn't going to spoil that for anything, choosing to simply lock himself in place. At the time he was certain it was perfect, offering the most protection from the icy breezes where he could still keep lookout. Four hours later, his sore limbs weren't so sure.

Stretching his arms above his head, he grimaced when the bones cracked back into place with a series of loud clicks. Keeping his eyes wide open was becoming a bit of a struggle, so he wiped at them furiously in an attempt to ward off any visual symptoms of tiredness. With a sigh, he and proceeded to extend his legs out and click his back into place. It was much warmer now, but still not even close to the blistering heat of the first few days in the arena.

Close beside him, Cato grunted and then shifted in his sleep. Peeta looked up at the sky to gauge the time more accurately. You tend to lose your sense of the passing hours when lost in thought. The clouds above him swirled their way across a sea of ambers and yellows, golden streaks stretching out through the trees as the glowing orb of red sunlight began to claw its way up the sky. Peeta was mesmerized at the beauty before him – he was sure that sunrise in District Twelve had never been quite so breathtaking – completely forgetting about his situation and even the other boy until he was felt someone nudging him in the side.

"Morning," Cato mumbled, rubbing his eyes blearily as he battled his way out of the thick cocoon of their sleeping bag. Detangling his limbs with no small amount of effort, the boy threw the material to one side with a scowl. The other boy raised his eyebrows at him.

"Good sleep?" Peeta tried to keep his tone light and casual, but he couldn't keep the tinge of bitterness out of his voice. Cato seemed to notice this as he smirked.

"Yeah. Excellent, actually." Still smirking, the boy sat down close beside him. "Thanks for that, by the way." At this his expression softened, smile becoming more sincere and Peeta couldn't remember what he had been upset about anymore, only that it didn't matter. He smiled back tiredly, running his fingers through his hair.

"It's okay," Peeta shrugged. "Don't mention it."

Cato shot him another grateful smile, clearly a whole lot more cheerful now that he'd slept a little. Peeta found that he was almost disappointed at this – as unlikely as he was to admit it, he sort of liked it when the other boy was grouchy. Realising a little too late that he was staring, Peeta glanced away. Cato looked like he was about to say something, but before he could a deep rumble sounded from his stomach and his cheeks coloured, embarrassed.

Laughing, Peeta stood up and offered a hand out to the other boy. "Sounds like someone's hungry," he teased, "I think it might be time to go hunting." He winked down at Cato who glared back at him, but there was no heat behind it. They'd moved beyond that. The boy grabbed his arm and yanked himself up before bending down to collect the sleeping bag and releasing Peeta's hand. If his touch lingered a couple of seconds too long, neither of them mentioned it.

"Fine, let's go hunting." He agreed, shoving the thick material in the backpack Peeta was wearing. It barely fit, but somehow he managed to cram it all in, proudly tugging the zipper closed when he was done. "Are we heading into the woods?"

"I guess so." Peeta nodded in assent and they both fell in step with one another, Peeta holding his knife handle warily while Cato swung the sword loosely by his side.

As they ventured further into the forest, Cato opened his mouth to speak, bored by the long stretch of silence. When Peeta shushed him with a finger, the boy looked mildly affronted until he noticed the deer watching them balefully between two trees. He glanced between them and the deer and weighed up the distance. He was no Clove, and it was too far for him to throw his weapon ensuring any degree of accuracy. The deer would probably scamper away before the knife even left his grasp. Peeta bit his lip. They were both strong boys with a large appetite. This would be an excellent kill.

He motioned at Cato to creep forward slightly, and the two boys edged their way over to the creature, all the while nervously avoiding twigs and branches that would crack under their feet and scare the deer away. As they drew closer, Peeta's fingers tightened on the knife. He angled himself so he was walking toward the deer's front, knowing that it would be an easier kill if he could pierce the neck.

Just as he decided he could probably aim from the distance he was at, Cato swore loudly as he stumbled over a stray branch and cracked his head on a nearby tree. In any other situation it would be funny, but Peeta only managed to catch the hind legs of the deer running away before it was out of sight. He turned around, irritated and his face clearly conveying it, but Cato just growled.

"It's not my fault." He hissed. "I'm sorry that the deer ran away, but don't even think about giving me a lecture on it. It's not like I did that on purpose, and my head fucking hurts!" He clutched at his temples and moaned a little, feeling the tender skin with his fingertips to check that he wasn't bleeding to death or anything.

Peeta sighed. "Fine. Be more careful next time. Is it really bad or can we move on?"

Cato just looked at him distastefully, telling him without even speaking that they were going to continue. It had hurt, but it's not like a bit of pain could quench a hungry appetite. Pleased by this, Peeta made the subconscious decision to follow the deer. It felt like a mission now. Something to hunt. Something to kill. They needed this.


Two hours later, long after Cato's cheerful mood from the morning disappeared completely, the boys finally managed to track down the deer without it running away. The creature began to sit down, facing the other way and completely oblivious to the two hunters crouching down in the trees behind it. Peeta smirked triumphantly. The deer shouldn't have let its guard down so easily.

He drew his knife further up as Cato matched his movement with his sword, and both prepared to sink the metal through the animal's flesh.

Peeta felt his lips stretch into an almost feral grin, his stomach growling in anticipation as he stabbed the deer through the neck. He'd never been this hungry before in his life. Not just for food – he was hungry for a kill. His gut contracted painfully as he tugged his knife through the deer's throat, blood spurting out and hitting his face.

He didn't stop carving out patterns in the blood-soaked fur until he was completely sure it was dead. He had actually waited for a few minutes for a cannon to sound before he realised how stupid he was being, then he turned round to face Cato. The other boy was studying him speculatively, and his sword didn't have even a speck of blood on it.

Cato noticed him looking at his sword and shrugged. "You seemed to be doing a pretty good job on your own." He explained, continuing to study the other through slightly narrowed eyes. Peeta felt uncomfortable, like he'd been caught licking the frosting from the cakes in the shop window by his mother or something.

It was only then that he remembered the warm blood on his face and hastily wiped it off with his sleeve, fighting down a blush. Why was he embarrassed?

Scrubbing the reddened skin with his jacket again, he wondered if the blood was gone or if it still sat there, smeared across his face. Would the other boy be disgusted by it? If only he had a mirror. By the time he looked up again, worried eyes meeting light blue ones, Cato was no longer studying him with the same intensity.

He was just smiling at him now, a small smile that made Peeta weirdly nervous. "Come on then, Lover Boy," he said, chivalrously holding out his arm to help the other boy back to his feet. "Let's go and find a place to eat this beast."

Still crouched over the bleeding deer, Peeta frowned at the nickname – he would never get used to it – and declined the boy's hand, preferring to push himself up off the ground while fixing him with a steady glower. Cato laughed out loud, head rolling back on his neck.

"Stop laughing and help me get this." The boy snapped, then smiled at the other boy to show he wasn't really mad. Reaching down, he grabbed the deer's back legs while Cato managed the front. Between the two of them they managed to haul it up and onto their shoulders, sharing the heavy weight between them as they walked slowly along the dirt path.


The hours passed amicably, light chatter gradually turning to a comfortable silence as time stretched ahead. When they grew tired, they stopped one of the denser parts of the forest, putting the heavy carcass down to rest their aching shoulders. Caught up in all the excitement of their great catch, somehow they had neglected to remember how ravenously hungry they were. Peeta's stomach actually throbbed now, painfully empty and giving him hell for it.

"We really need to eat," he announced loudly. "Seriously, if I don't consume something soon I'm going to pass out and die."

He didn't realise his poor humour until Cato shot him a look that said 'that joke is really not funny' before nodding in agreement. Too pleased at the prospect of eating to feel guilty, he opted instead to attempt to make himself useful. He collected some wood and fashioned a makeshift spit while Cato used a small knife to carefully cut two large chunks from the deer's body. Then they cooked it slowly over a small fire, praying that the smoke wouldn't rise up through the leaves and give them away.

"It's weird just the two of us," Peeta mumbled a little later around a large mouthful of meat. Cato looked over at him thoughtfully, slowly chewing on his own meal, savouring the taste like he'd never eat another meal again.

"Yeah, I guess." The other boy shrugged noncommittally. "I didn't expect it to be so quiet, just us. I kind of thought we'd be at each other's throat the whole time or something without Clove to stop us."

Peeta chuckled sadly. "I didn't think we'd cope without her."

"Well, it looks like we're proving you wrong." Cato smiled warmly, but it was clear he didn't want to talk about this or about her. "Maybe she was right about you all along. You're not as bad as I thought."

"What do you mean, maybe?" Peeta repeated, incredulous. After all of this and everything they'd been through together, the other boy still doubted his value. Rolling his eyes, Cato shook his head and poked the boy gently in the side.

"Hey, don't be mad at me," he said, knowing he'd unintentionally struck a nerve. "I didn't really mean that, stupid."

"Yeah." His face still sported a disgruntled expression, and he let out a long sigh before talking again. "I know you didn't, don't worry about it."

They finished their meal in a tense sort of silence, neither of them particularly angry at the other but not really knowing what to say to get the conversation flowing again. Peeta put it down to the fact that they were both still sore about losing their friend. It was something that affected both of them in the same way, and gave them something in common. A weakness they shared.

As much as he hated to admit it, a part of Peeta knew that their alliance was stronger thanks to the girl's death. It was the only thing that could make them understand how much they needed each other in this arena, and although it was hard to deal with sometimes, he knew that it had bound the two boys even tighter, pulled them that little bit closer together – the kind of closeness where they bickered but about nothing just to keep themselves grounded, to make things feel like they were still normal and they were going to be okay.

It was easier to be together now, more natural and less explosive. Before, Cato couldn't wait to shake the boy off and Peeta had trailed around after him like a lost puppy. Now they were both just grateful for that little extra company.

By the time they had both devoured their meal, it had to be around mid-afternoon. It was weird how time seemed to flow in the arena, some hours dragging on while others flitted by so quickly that if you blinked, you'd miss them.

"Do you want to stay here and set up our stuff or move on?" Cato said, glancing around the surrounding trees and raising his eyebrows in question. For a moment, Peeta considered the area, surveying it properly for the first time. Yes, it looked like a well-hidden spot, but he couldn't shake off a sense of unease that it was taken by someone else already.

He shook his head ever so slightly. Something was telling him that they couldn't stay there, and he'd learnt from experience that at times like these, it's always best to stick with your gut. "Let's find somewhere else. I have feeling that there's something better out there."

"Okay," Cato agreed easily, and Peeta was surprised. "How about we keep going for another half an hour or so. If we don't find something better, we can fall back here?"

The other boy nodded and smiled, wondering if this was Cato's way of making it up to him about that comment he had made earlier. Knowing him, it probably was. Gathering their supplies together once more and hauling the deer back onto their shoulders, the two left that part of the forest behind them in search of somewhere new.


Every single tree looked the same. The repetitiveness of browns and greens did well for their cover and made it easy for him to use camouflage, but Peeta found it so tiresome. Maybe it's because he never really liked the forests anyway. They always looked so foreboding and out of bounds behind the high electrical fences back in his District – he never understood how Katniss was so comfortable in them. Then again, he guessed she had to be.

He shook his head to clear thoughts of the dead girl out. He surprised himself by how often he had to control his own thoughts nowadays. He was constantly setting up walls and blocks and it made him feel uncomfortable, like a stranger in his own mind.

"Watch out!" Cato warned suddenly, grabbing his arm and yanking him out of the way of something. Peeta looked down to see what the other boy was pointing at – a wooden stake stuck up in some sort of trap. A snare. Glancing around, he realised that the ground around him was filled with them.

He felt like he'd been punched in the gut. Katniss. They must have stumbled across the place where the two girls had set up camp, back when they were still alive. He couldn't help sadness spreading throughout him. He clenched his fist and set his jaw in a straight, tense line. He didn't want to give anything away. He constantly had to think of how other people – people on the outside – were viewing him. Judging him.

He thought he was doing a pretty okay job. Making sure he kept his voice steady, he turned away from the snare. "Must have been where-" but he cut off, shaking his head. "Let's move on." He suggested in a low voice, and his voice cracked a little but he didn't acknowledge it, and neither did Cato. However, when they got out of that section of the forest the boy stuck close to Peeta, both walking side by side, arms bumping every couple of seconds.

After around five minutes of this, when Peeta was feeling a bit better, he looked up at the other boy. Cato just smiled down at him, squeezed his arm quickly then widened the gap between them a little. Peeta felt touched at how the boy was, in his own silent and slightly awkward way, trying to comfort him. He smiled at the ground, and noticed thick mud on the floor. This started him thinking about how he hadn't had a drink of water all day, and all at once his throat seemed to realise this as it began screaming in protest, its scratchy dryness hurting him.

"We should get some water." He said suddenly. Cato began to decide whether he was thirsty it seemed, cocking his head to one side and tapping his lip with his finger. Peeta decided to rephrase. "I need water."

Cato smiled at him and shook his head somewhat fondly.

"Let's go then." He gestured in the direction of the mud path, and they both followed it until the ground became less dry and more waterlogged, knowing that there must be a water source within ten minutes distance now, easily. Peeta spotted a small spring a few metres away and ran towards it desperately, without thinking.

Kneeling down by the side of the spring, it took all his self-control not to just plunge his head into it, instead pulling out his water skin from the backpack, tugging it off his back and unzipping it frantically. He stuck the water skin into the water, wasting no time. Digging out the small bottle of iodine, he grimaced. All he could do was wait for the iodine to purify the water. The only thing stopping him from taking the risk was the memory of a tribute he'd watched in a previous year that did the very same thing. He had grown steadily more and more ill and ended up throwing up constantly. What a pathetic way to go.

Peeta sat back and simply watched the water moving around in the spring, seeing the light catching on the waves and studying it for later use. If he ever got out of there, it would be an amazing image to capture on a canvas. He began to muse on what colours would perfectly portray that moment before he remembered he had an ally.

"Cato?" He called, furrowing his brow. He hadn't seen him since he'd spotted the spring, which must have been at least ten minutes ago. Damn, he thought. He had to stop letting his thoughts run away from him. He began to stand up, worried, before the other boy popped his head around the corner, smiling.

"I think I found a great place for us to came!" He called excitedly. "Come on!"

Peeta stood up with a look of sorrow on his face. "Another fifteen minutes before I can drink the water. Can we wait until then so then I can fill it up again?"

Cato laughed at Peeta's obvious sorrow, and made a pathetic attempt to cover it up with a series of faked coughs when the other boy didn't show any signs of being amused.

"Peeta...you do know the Capitol enhances that stuff?" Peeta looked at him, confused. "It's made better so it only takes what, two minutes to purify?" He could tell the other boy still wasn't following so continued with a sigh. "Look at it this way – the audience in the Capitol got bored of watching tributes just sit around for water when they could have been doing something interesting, like getting killed." He smirked cockily. "So they sped up the process. Now drink your water and fill it up again so we can leave! C'mon, Peeta, I've got to show you this place!"

Peeta obediently downed the water, the sweet relief of the liquid gliding down his throat enough to make him sigh in pleasure and smile. He quickly refilled it and didn't even bother to add the drops to purify it yet. If it did only take two minutes, Cato could hold out until they got to the spot where he was taking them.

The boy was tapping his foot impatiently and when Peeta got close to him he literally grabbed his wrist and dragged him through a thicket of bushes so fast that a thorn scratched his cheek.

"Ow! Cato, be careful, you idiot!" He frowned at him and rubbed his face indignantly, frowning harder when blood stained his fingertip.

"Sorry..." He looked sheepish and released Peeta's wrist – not before giving it a soothing squeeze. "But hey, we're here!"

Peeta looked around at where Cato was grinning. He didn't see it at first, a bush concealing most of the entrance, but when he neared it, he could see it much clearer. A deep cave.

"Have you-"

"Yeah, already checked. Nothing in there – no sign of anyone." He grinned. "Or anything. So what do you say? It'll be a good place for us to conceal ourselves, right? Might even be able to grab a few hours sleep..." He winked at Peeta, but he suddenly looked a bit unsure of himself, like he was worried that the other boy would laugh at him or something.

Peeta considered. It would be good protection from the wind, rain and any other weather that could befall them. It was close to a water supply and they could easily disguise the entrance. And most importantly, though he wouldn't have admitted it, it would protect them against other tributes. Oh, and Peeta was really in need of that sleep.

"Yeah, it's perfect!" He smiled at Cato who just looked on in relief. "So… let's get inside?"


A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry it took so long to update (it feels like forever) but it's finally here! Again, it might take a while for the next update because we still have a few weeks left of exams - if you're reading and you can find the time, please leave us review. We love hearing what you think, any and all feedback makes skipping studying time to write totally worth it. As always, thank you for reading and hopefully we'll see you again soon!