When we get back to the camp Cato and I ration out duties. We set Glimmer and Marvel on sorting out food and we put the District Four girl, who irately informs me that her name is Clarissa, and Peeta on setting up tents. "What are you going to do?" Marvel asks me insolently. My eyes freeze over as I fix him with a frigid glare, "Decide how long you're use will last." I whirl around, sleek ponytail bouncing as I stalk away. I don't know what's making me so irritable. Maybe it's the cold dawn air, maybe it's the fact that we couldn't find Katniss, but I think that it's probably Cato's words that are gnawing at my brittle heart.

I hear footsteps behind me as I'm heading off towards the lake. I whirl around to snap before realizing that it is only Cato. I spin back around and continue stalking off. Cato is about twice my size and his long strides keep pace with me easily. "Forget 'Girl on Fire!'," Cato begins teasingly, "What's gotten you iced over?" His banter touches me. Ever since we last spoke at this lake he's been careful not to give the cameras more hints about our relationship. Granted, 'Clove, I love you and I will die for you." Was fairly explicit but I think that Cato got careless and is trying to be extra careful. Nonetheless, though, he breaks his stony career façade to try and cheer me up. I giggle, breaking the ice.

Suddenly a crazy idea occurs to me. I know that Cato would never agree if I told him so I decide to go ahead with it. "This is stupid!" I blurt out, exasperatedly. Cato's look of surprise spurs me onwards; I know that every television set in Panem must display my face now. "The damn District 12 tributes have gotten us afraid of our own shadows!" Cato still doesn't get it, or maybe he does but isn't ready to show it yet. "I love you, and you love me, and just because Lover Boy beat us to the confession does not make it any less real. We don't need all of the glitz of 'Star Crossed Lovers', I don't care if we never get another Sponsor, I just want to spend all of the time I have left with you." It's a long speech for me, and I stumble several times but by the end Cato has picked up on what I'm playing. His gaze is full of adoration, part fiction and part fact. Cato would never look at me with that mushy gaze, that one's for the cameras, but when he speaks I know that he isn't acting. "I thought you'd never say so."

Then he kisses me, our first real kiss since I was reaped. Even though I know that cameras are trained on my face I feel safe, it's almost like having Cato back. The illusion is shattered though, by a loud thump. We break apart and turn to see a large box, wrapped in silver paper. "I guess the Panem isn't too mad that we lied," I say innocently. Cato chuckles, "You're cute when you try to act innocent." He kisses me on the forehead and then turns his attention to the silver box. He tears into it and lifts the lid off. I gasp like a little girl at what's inside. There are two weapons, each deadlier that the last. Cato immediately grabs the one clearly meant for him. It's a cruel steel sword, finer than anything he's ever held, even back in District 2. I only spend a few seconds on his gift before descending to examine mine.

It's long, as knives go, and I can tell by looking at it that it is a work of art. The knife is unadorned by any embellishments but I can feel in the material and see in the precision of the blade that this is a special gift. I leap to my feat, eager to try it out. It is Cato who laughs and holds me back. "Slow down," He chuckles. "What?" I ask petulantly, he smiles and leans in to kiss me again, "We have to find a target first." I am about to retort when suddenly I find my mouth very busy. When he comes up for air a question bubbles in my mind, "Cato?" I ask, eyes wide. "Yes?" I look down for a moment, feign sheepishness, "You don't think Glimmer is prettier than me, do you?"

We are so caught up in each other and our new strategy that we don't notice our quarry until it's too late. Cato says I have eyes in the back of my head but I swear that it comes from the years of training. I can always feel eyes on me and now is no exception. I twirl around and fling my knife while Cato is still trying to figure out what happened. I curse loudly when I see my knife stick in a tree trunk, with a tuft of ginger hair stuck to it. Cato has caught up and he breaks out into a sprint. It's that girl from five, the crafty one. As Cato runs after her I ponder just how clever. Did she hear anything, how much has she guessed? I am frustrated with myself for letting her slip past my blade and as soon as I see Cato remerging from the woods, devoid of the fox faced girl. He retrieves my knife for me and hands it over. I sigh, "I didn't sense her until too late." Cato merely laughs at me, "Oh well, it's her loss, a knife to the heart would have been quick, now I fear we'll have to make her suffer."

For the first time in my life I wonder if there might be something wrong with children killing each other.