Wow, twenty-one reviews for three chapters! You guys are great :) This story is a lot of fun to write, I'm really enjoying it. Anyway, this is Cato's drabble. It's a bit different than the others, since I tried to portray Cato more sympathetically, and I hoped it worked. Up next on Monday will be Foxface's drabble, then Thresh's. I think it's funny that no one's asked me for one about Gale yet. I'm not a big Gale fan-Team Peeta all the way!-but I have a pretty cool drabble in mind for him. Thank you for all the reviews you've given me, and I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games.

She had done it. She had just killed me.

I barely felt the screaming pain from my hand where she had shot me, or the way the wind was knocked from my body as I slipped and fell, fell, fell, fell down into the hungry, waiting jaws.

I couldn't believe it, but at the same time, I'd always known it.

The girl from District 12 had always been the only one I could possibly see beating me, because she was like me. She would never admit it, but she was. She was powerful and deadly, like half the people who had already died, but she was angry. Just like me.

Then I hit the ground, and all conscious thought was wiped from my mind. There was only pain.

I don't know for how long the mutts tear at me. For a while, I see the moon's progress against the sky, but then I'm bleeding so much, I can't even see. Then I keep track by the limbs they are gnawing at and tearing away-left foot, right hand, right elbow, left calf-and finally I run out of those, too. And I'm just lying there, dying, for I don't know how long.

And then, I can faintly hear something from atop the horn. I only have one ear left, and it's full of blood, but I'm able to hear someone moving up there.

She's coming.

I try to push myself backwards, to roll over, to do something, but I can't. I can't do anything but lie there and wait.

Then I see it, the dark, bloodied head hanging down over the lip of the horn, peering down into the inside. She sees me, and stares for a moment.

It takes all my strength to gasp one word through my mutilated mouth. "Please."

I should be ashamed at this, to beg for death. That's what I've always been taught. Fight until you can't fight any more. But I can't fight any more, it's over.

She pulls back the arrow, and I feel…delivered. It's finally over. And I'm not even that upset. In fact, I'm almost grateful that she's stronger than I am. I never could have given an enemy an honorable death. And that's all I can ask of anyone at this point.

My last thought is that she was the only one who deserved to beat me.