But this in and of itself was not an answer—not even close to one. Especially when the girl whom these memories belonged to had no recollection of ever living through these experiences. It was… frustrating, to say the least. Fortunately the wilds proved to be ample distraction from his gloomy thoughts.
The valley sprawled below them, besotted in a fine mist that crept about the base of the mountain. Silvery streams glinted in the early-morning sunlight, and far out in the distance he could see where they all converged together to create a wide mouthed river, twisting off into the horizon. It was a breathtaking sight.
And that was to say nothing of the woman some paces ahead of him, picking through the rocky path with a dexterity that still humbled him. He'd long since stopped growing irritated with it; he'd stopped thinking of her as an enemy. She wasn't an adversary, and though it was hard to acknowledge his own shortcomings, he could at least respect her for her strength. The unshakeable independence was rather inspiring.
Katniss didn't speak very much, and when she did it was normally to observe something significant. He wondered how one person could become so pragmatic and efficient, to the point even her words were decisive. He wondered a lot about her, actually, kind of all the time.
But of course he would, he reasoned to himself. He'd never met anyone like her; of course he would be curious.
In the filtered, pre-dawn light, one slim hand rose into the air.
"That one," she said, pointing far above. He squinted up into the atmosphere; a string of stars gathered above the helm of a large mountain. Three in a row. He squinted harder. There was one hanging crooked just off the side, so dim in comparison to its twinkling constituents.
"That fourth star always points north," she continued, drawing the line out of the heavens and into the world with her hand. He followed her gesture; large buffeting peaks of great whiteness, off into the endless distance.
"Is it the same?" He found himself asking. "In Panem?"
Katniss paused. "Yes." She said at length.
And after a beat, "Though I suppose the cardinal directions are sort of useless in a place like Panem." She shrugged. "You can't exactly just set out in a direction and travel."
That's true. You'd run into some kind of gate eventually.
His gaze lingers on the closest peak, which still seems eons away. In its silhouette he can make out strange, jagged claws that seem to have unearthed themselves from the bowels of the mountain. Many of them, almost in the shape of—bones. Ribs. It looked like a rib cage, emerging from the earth.
"What is that?" He pointed to it.
She followed his gaze. Katniss made an unfavorable noise. "Bleak Falls Barrow," she answered, darkly.
"What is it?"
"A dungeon." She replied. "A dangerous one, at that. Let's try to avoid it as much as possible."
A dungeon? He swallowed, keeping steady sight on the ribcage of stone. "You mean, like those crypts you were talking about?"
"Yes."
"So there're dead things in them?" And after a beat, he amended, "Or rather, undead things?"
"Draugr?"
"Yeah—those zombie things."
"Draugr." She affirmed, looking amused at his terminology. "Yes, I'm sure there are. The bowels of Skyrim aren't a place for the faint hearted, that's for sure."
Nothing about this place was for the faint hearted. This place could ruin you in a way even the Capitol wasn't capable of. He wondered if this was what it was like in the Dark Ages. Cato had always heard how terrible they were—how everything had been lost to chaos and anarchy, and without order the world was lost. That humanity could not exist without laws and government. But Skyrim wasn't lost. It sure seemed to be lawless, but the people thrived anyhow.
He missed home, desperately. He wanted nothing else than to be in his bed in District 2 once again. Or anywhere in Panem, for that matter.
But there was a part of him—a very small part—that had started to grow… fond of this place. This was a world out to kill you, a world where you had nothing to rely on but yourself. That was terrifying, yes, but oddly freeing. He could get used to this, the anticipatory idea that he could travel in any of the four corners infinitely, no gates, no peacekeepers, no fences to stop him.
"Are you hungry?" The girl snapped him out of his reverie with this.
Yes. But he was starting to get a little bit tired of venison. "I'm alright." Maybe he could make it until the next town—Riverwood, she had said. Hopefully it wasn't too far off.
Katniss spared him a glance, a wry smirk on her face, as if she could see clear through his lie. Though he liked it when her mask was off, he didn't appreciate the patronizing look. She turned around again without a word, drawing an arrow from her quiver. She pulled her bow into position, knotched the arrow, and shot into the morning sky.
A moment later a bird came plummeting out of the stratosphere, landing with a thud some meters ahead of them, arrow clean through the heart.
He shook his head in begrudging amazement. He didn't think he'd ever get used to seeing her do that so casually.
Katniss stalked over, retrieving her arrow and the bird. She looked over her shoulder towards him. "How do you feel about duck?"
Duck sounded mouth-watering right now.
He waited with anticipation as they moved off the road and onto a small overhang off the side of the path. Close enough to still be convenient, but far away enough to give them a vantage over the surrounding area. He thought it might have been a tactic because of the bandits, but Katniss informed him that pretty much everything that lived in Skyrim was out to kill them. The other people, the bears, the wolves, the cave trolls (cave trolls?) dragons, and probably thousands of other things even down to the insects. The prospect was horrifying, but Katniss did not seem all that concerned. She pointed out that he had a sword, and he clearly knew how to use it. When she put it like that the prospect suddenly didn't sound so endangering.
"You're armed," she shrugged. "You have a weapon: you know how to use it. What else do you need but a sword?"
The idea of wandering the earth with nothing but himself and his weapon left him with an overwhelming pang of want. He wanted that. So badly he could almost taste it.
He found himself smiling wryly; "Well, I guess that's true. I'd still need to know how to cook," he gestured to where she had skinned the ducks and roasted them into something approaching tasty, "Feed myself… fend for myself."
This was not the sort of thing he'd ever admit to anyone, of course. But Katniss wasn't just anyone. He was even starting to accept the fact that she may be—slightly—superior to him in certain areas.
"I imagine you didn't need to know any of that in a place like District Two," she says, surprising him.
She's right, of course. District Two citizens want for nothing. He bit into his duck, making a noise of approval at the taste. Food had never even occurred to him as something he needed to be concerned over. Water even less. The only thing he'd ever paid any attention to was fighting; at the very least that skill had some merit in survival. But if there's anything he had learned here, it was that he had many other areas of study he needed to turn his attention to. After all, how much more invaluable would he be in the arena if he could be self-sufficient enough not to rely on the other Careers? They would be nothing without him, floundering without food and water, and with no way of going about getting either. The idea of it elicited his satisfaction: he would be the best.
The boy paused mid bite—this was all to assume he could get back in the first place, of course.
"You still don't know anything about how these two places are connected," he began slowly, tossing his leftovers into the fire.
Katniss met his eyes over the crackling flames, nodding. "Not a thing." She answered, truthfully.
"But you said that you think those people in—in…
"Winterhold," Katniss helpfully supplied.
"Right." He nodded. "Those people in Winterhold could help me. But how do you know that it's even possible?"
"I don't." Katniss replied, flatly. His stomach twists. She wiped delicately at her mouth, finishing up her meal and moving to put out the fire. "But if anyone could help you, it's them. Whatever happened to you… however you managed to cross between our two worlds—well, it doesn't make any sense to me."
"Me either." Cato sighed.
She shrugged. "And whenever things don't make any logical sense—well, it's normally safe to assume there is some sort of magic at work."
"Magic?" He looked up sharply at that. He still wasn't sure what he thought of that; how could magic possibly exist? The whole idea of finding himself on another world was strange enough—but a world where sorcerers roamed the lands, where bows struck with lightning and swords with fire… He couldn't really believe it. Even though he'd seen it in action.
"Magic follows it's own set of rules," Katniss explained, drily. "I'm no mage, but you pick up a thing or two when you live around here. I believe it's actually quite closely related to science."
Not that Cato paid much attention to that, either. He didn't know what made cars move, or trains; or why television sets worked or why barriers stayed put. He always assumed that was worthless knowledge.
"So we won't know until we get there."
"Yes." She looked away, into the bright, watery light. The white river glittered beneath their cliff, sloughing down the ravine.
He studied her closely, carefully. Her hair twisted down one shoulder in a loose braid, bow and quiver fastened to her back. Her belt was lined with small pouches and packs, daggers were strapped to her legs. He swallowed, looking away. She looked… dangerous. And that armor was awfully form fitting.
"You ready?" She looked down at him, the sun a glaring halo lighting her profile in lines of gold.
"Yeah." He stood, following her into the distance.
.
.
.
Katniss insisted that the town was not much farther, so the two embarked long into the night. It was well past dusk when they finally traversed down the mountainous hills and down to the river. In the day the air lay gloomy and cold, the night even more so. Damp and cold mist wandered around their feet as they trudged down the winding pass. Up on the other mountain range across the water, Bleak Falls Barrow clawed into the air as black knives; darkness stark against the dying sun. If it looked this ominous from so far below, he could only imagine what it was like up on the summit.
"Cold?" Katniss didn't wait for an answer, tossing him one of the bear pelts. She had fastened one of her own around her shoulders, clawed limbs hanging off them and dangling on her chest. On her head she wore the head as a hat, the great maw of its jaws framing the crown of her hair. It should have looked utterly ridiculous, but somehow it made her seem all the more formidable.
He took the pelt without protest, mimicking her as he fastened it over his chest.
"There's no magic spell for warmth?" He teased, but only half in jest.
"If there is, I don't know of it." Katniss returned. "I don't know much about the subject." At this, her eyes slid towards him curiously. "You seem pretty interested in it."
He shrugged, defensively. "Yeah, well… it's new, is all. We don't have anything like it back in Panem."
Katniss made a vague noise of agreement.
"Is there anything special?" He asked, after a beat. "About being a mage, I mean. Like, do you need to be a… a wizard, I guess?"
Katniss blinked at the question. The colossal moons made her eyes glow like bright lights. "No—anyone can learn the arcane arts." She said after a moment. One eyebrow rose coolly, "Just new, is it?" She smirked.
"It sounds interesting, alright?" He grumbled, wondering why he felt so defensive about it. What was wrong with a little interest in magic? One could hardly blame him! "What, I can't be interested?"
"No, you can." Katniss smiled, mirthfully. "You just didn't really strike me as the type."
He scowled at her.
"Mages are just—very scholarly."
"Are you saying you don't think I'm smart?"
"I don't think you have much interested in theory and academia." She refuted. He had no retort for that… she was right. He hated spending says cooped up inside learning useless things that would never come in handy. "But there are other properties to magic than just that. There are quite a few destructive spells that are very useful for warriors."
This definitely piqued his interest. "Like those bandits that could shoot flames?"
"Yes." She nodded. "And enchanted weapons and the like."
It sounded quite fascinating. Unfortunately, he didn't even know the first place to start. And it's not like Katniss could help him in this regard; honestly he should find it a little reassuring that there were things the girl wasn't outrageously skilled in.
"Do you know any mages?" He asked, idly, picking his way through the darkness. Cato wondered how she could see.
"No, actually." Katniss replied; he stumbled and shrieked like a little girl when he stepped on something soft and squishy, bounding right into her.
"Oh god," he said, horrified. "I think a frog just died beneath my toes."
"Good thing you're not the frog." Katniss snorted. One of her slim hands found his in the dark, tugging him along. It surprised him how small her fingers were—with the spiked gauntles she wore, they looked enormous. Small, and warm… and leading him around a giant boulder he would have ran face first into.
"How can you see in the dark?" He grumbled, insensibly pissy about it; must she be so good at everything?
"You'll get used to it eventually," He could hear the smile in her voice. "If you hunt in the darkness for long enough."
Cato blinked. That's right. Katniss was a hunter. Hell, of course she was a hunter, how else would she have managed to shoot a duck straight out of the clouds? Or kill bears three times her size? Katniss was a predator—and a very good one, at that. She was probably the most dangerous creature on this side of the mountain; maybe even beyond. He wondered why she was so good at it. From what Cato had seen of this world, there weren't a lot of professions like there were back home. He doubted there were system engineers, construction workers, train operators, or even Careers. Maybe this was what she did. He felt like he had stepped into a fantasy book; people still rode around on horses, skinned animals out on the store stoop and clanged swords together and shoveled things into smelters.
He was stirred out of this thoughts by twinkling lights in the distance. Flickering brightness winking far off, like stars. Except they were far too close to the ground to be stars.
"Is that it?" He asked, quiet. "The town?"
"That's Riverwood." Katniss nodded. "Don't expect too much, though. It's not much bigger than Helgen."
So, very small, pretty much.
When they finally crossed the stone bridge onto the other side of the river, there wasn't a soul in sight aside from the guards at the watchtowers. They heckled the two of them quite a bit, until Katniss insisted they weren't 'Stormcloaks'. Cato decided to hang back and let her do it, because he hadn't the slightest idea what was going on.
But by the time they had made it to the Inn, and bartered for a room, he couldn't hold his curiosity for much longer.
"Stormcloaks?" He repeated, once they were in the safety of the inn room. It was just as small and cramped as the last one they had stayed in, and just as sparsely furnished. The bed was even smaller than the one in Helgen; modestly equipped with two pillows and a threadbare blanket, no fire, and a chest hauled up against the bottom of the bed. There wasn't even a chair. Katniss didn't appear all that concerned over it, dropping her pack onto the top of the chest and unfastening her bear pelt. Cato narrowed his eyes at her when she didn't respond. "What the hell is a Stormcloak?"
"Nothing." She insisted, which was so clearly a lie it was laughable. "It's just Skyrim politics, is all. Don't worry about it."
"I am worried about it." He retorted. "Those guards looked like they wanted to run right through you with a pike."
Katniss scoffed. "They wouldn't have the chance." She looked amused at the idea. She sloughed off her pelt, catching his gaze when she slipped it over her head. Whatever she saw there must have changed her mind, for she sighed. "It's—complicated. There are two warring factions in Skyrim right now; the Imperials, and the Stormcloaks. We're in Imperial territory right now, so they're not too keen on Stormcloaks."
He made a noise of understanding. "But why did they think we were Stormcloaks?"
She gestured to their bear pelts. "These are the mark of a Stormcloak General." Katniss revealed.
Cato looked vaguely alarmed.
"Like I said, don't worry about it." Katniss repeated. "You're not even from around here. The both of us—we should just concentrate on getting to Winterhold in one piece."
He nodded absently at that, a thought occurring to him. "Just how far is Winterhold?" He wasn't sure if he'd asked that already. And if he had, he doesn't think she'd given him a proper answer.
Katniss debated this for a moment, looking thoughtful as she loosened her braid. Her hair spilled out in long tangled curls, and one of her hands came up to thread through the dark locks. "Follow me," she said, and then pivoted smartly and left the room. He floundered for a moment, throwing off his sword before he turned to follow her out the door.
She didn't lead them very far; just to the far side of the room where a fire stick crackled merrily in the hearth. The Innkeeper had retired soon after setting them up with a room, looking irritable at having been woken up in the middle of the night to attend to them, leaving the two of them alone in the large hall. Katniss pointed a finger at a tattered tapestry hung above the fireplace. Cato squinted at it, until he could make out faint letters in ornamental script, and fine lines drawn into the browned parchment.
It was a map.
She walked closer until she could press a finger to a depiction of a small town. "This is Riverwood," she explained, finger moving to trace their route. "And down here is Helgen, where we just came from. And further down is Falkreath—where we started." Each of the towns looked some distance apart from them, and were all settled upon the base of an enormous mountain. That must have been the tall peaks they'd traveled around. The Throat of the World, it said. It was easily the biggest mountain depicted on the map.
She drew her hand far up north. "This is Winterhold." She said, gesturing to a town at the very top of the map, by the sea. In comparison to where they had been, it looked some distance away.
"That's far." He noticed, with no small amount of dismay.
"Very." She agreed. "We're traveling clear across the country."
Cato swallowed thickly. "How—how long will it take to get there?"
She made a noncommittal noise. "Depends on a lot of things," Katniss decided on, after a beat. "What sort of opposition we run into—that part of Skyrim is vast and full of dangerous creatures of the far north. But perhaps most importantly, it really depends on the weather conditions."
She spread her hand against the paper, covering a long arch between winding mountain ranges. "We'll have to travel clear through this long valley right here, called The Pale—that's the fastest route. At this time of year the plains will be very unforgiving… but that's to say nothing of the mountains. Once we cross it we make for Dawnstar, the port town, and follow the coast to Winterhold. Trying to cross the mountain range at this time of year will be impossible. We'd probably freeze to death even trying."
He nodded grimly. "I see. There isn't any other way?"
Katniss hummed. "Well, instead of going straight north, we could head east first, towards the City of Windhelm, and then from Windhelm head north and it'll be a straight shot to Winterhold. It would take longer, but the conditions are far more amenable."
"What's longer?"
"Weeks." She paused. "Months, even. Windhelm is the Capital of the Stormcloaks. Considering the conflicts going on, that will be a headache in and of itself."
It seemed so odd to be this concerned over travel routes. In Panem, there was a train that went through all the Districts, and it ran through rain, sleet, snow or hail. It didn't matter what the weather was like, life continued on. But in Skyrim, it seemed the people lived at the mercy of the elements.
Cato didn't know anything about travel, or weather, for that matter. Another thing he had never bothered to be concerned over. It's not like the weather would ever be an issue in the Arena, after all.
"What do you think?" He had simply resigned himself into having to take Katniss's lead on most things, so he didn't feel particularly humiliated in having to ask.
"We'll try for Dawnstar, but if it the conditions are too poor, we'll make east for Windhelm."
That sounded as good a plan as any.
They retired soon after that, into the bed that could barely fit him, let alone both of them. Katniss tugged the bear pelt over the both of them, fitted snugly against his side. Cato didn't think he'd ever felt this uncomfortable before; he was acutely aware of every place their bodies touched, even through layers of clothing. Worse still; it was all too easy to imagine what it would feel like to be touching without all those layers.
This wasn't his fault, he thought to himself. He was a teenage boy, after all. It was only natural to have this kind of reaction… and it wasn't as if Katniss was bad to look at. She wasn't the most attractive woman he'd ever seen though, Cato reasoned. He'd certainly been with his fair share of beautiful girls—full figures and unparalleled features. Katniss wasn't that hot, he told himself. This was just a natural reaction, was all. But, this was not at all to say Katniss was unattractive. Not at all. She had the most lovely eyes he had ever seen, a face that managed to entice him and intimidate him at the same time, really great legs… okay, so she was pretty hot. All the other girls he had slept with before were just as hot.
Except none of those girls had ever held his attention like Katniss did. None of them had ever won his respect like she had.
"Cato…"
Her soft voice practically startled him right off the bed.
"Um, yeah?" He returned, in a strangled voice.
"Are you alright?" She murmured, breath tickling against his ear as she watched him with her luminescent eyes.
"Uh—fine." Oh god. Was he really that obvious?
"I know it's a lot to take in," she continued on. "Being here, and all that… so far away from home. In such an unfamiliar place."
Oh. Yeah, that.
He blinked up into the blackness. "Yeah," he agreed. "It's not so bad, though. Really it's just the confusion that I hate the most—how did I get here? Why am I here? Is there any way to get back?"
Katniss was silent for a long moment. "I'm sorry I can't answer any of those questions for you." She returned, helplessly.
"It's fine." He shrugged. "You're doing more than enough."
Except…
A thought occurred to him, one that set him on edge. He rolled over abruptly, facing her. "Why are you doing this?" He scrutinized her closely. "You're going really out of your way to help me here—no one does that without a reason."
She searches him just as closely, before releasing a long breath. "Isn't it obvious?" Katniss turns away from him, lying flat on her back as she ran a hand through her hair. "I want to know as well. About… about my dreams. It seems like my best bet is to follow you, and maybe I'll find some answers."
Cato digested this slowly. He supposed that was a good enough answer. It made sense. She was probably just as confused about her dreams as he was. Why in the hell would she be dreaming about District 12, of all places? Nothing about this made sense.
He drifted off like that, deciding that he was not going to get an answer any time soon, and there was no point getting worked up about it.
.
.
.
He had resigned himself to just waking up in really awkward positions and trying to make the most of it.
Cato wondered how far up north they were now, for the temperature had dropped enormously during the night. Even under the bear pelt he could feel it; any place that wasn't draped in fur had frozen in the space of minutes—and if it wasn't tightly sealed the ice cold air would seep in. Katniss was tucked underneath his chin, facing him, warm breath soft against his neck. He could feel her knees jabbing into his stomach, surprisingly bony, and her arms curled up against her. Even she wasn't immune to this weather.
They both left the warmth with great reluctance, sloughing on their overcoats and weapons and heading out into the dewy morning. They both wore the two bear pelts, the third wrapped up and attached to Katniss's pack.
He didn't notice them at first, too sleep deprived and still feeling like a block of ice, but Katniss stilled in front of him and it finally brought his attention to the situation at hand. There were five guards in front of them, looking like they wanted to point their weapons at them but were thinking better of it as Katniss' bow crackled to life.
"We cannot allow you to continue."
Katniss scowled. "Any particular reason for that?"
"You're Stormcloaks," the man continued, sounding so sure of himself. "We can't allow you to pass."
"Without a price." Another added.
"A price?" Katniss snorted, bewildered and incredulous. "Do we look like we have treasures to offer you?"
"No," the first guard agreed. "But you look as if you'd have no trouble finding some."
Katniss did not reply to this. Cato wasn't sure what to say.
"What do you want?" She bit out, after a moment.
The tallest guard pointed towards the sky. It took him a moment to realize he wasn't pointing to the sky at all, but the tall spires out in the distant mountain range—and an ominous structure built in the eaves of it, shaped like bones.
"In there—we're fairly sure a priceless artifact, called the Golden Claw is in there. This bastard Avrel stole it from the township not a fortnight ago, and we want it back."
"And you expect us to go and get it for you?" Katniss retorted.
"I don't think a couple of bandits will give you much trouble."
"Bandits? That's an ancient Nordic burial site—there's draugr in there."
At the mention of those terrifying undead creatures, Cato paled. Fighting bandits, bears, and wolves—fine. But the undead were a totally different story. Unfortunately, the men before them did not appear to be particularly moved by this. "Not that much different." He said, casually. Not that much different? They were zombies! He could imagine the undead army with far too much clarity.
The hunter narrowed her eyes. "What's so special about this Golden Claw? It must be pretty important if you want to get it back so badly."
"Like I said, it's priceless. Solid gold!"
This piqued Katniss's interest. She gave a quick side glance to him, one he couldn't really decipher. "Solid gold, huh?"
It all happened so fast—he didn't see at first, just heard it. A sharp crack, a flash of light. Like lightning. They were not standing far from them, but she was so swift they still didn't have time to react. It took Cato until the third one went down for him to snap into action himself, felling the fourth guard. Katniss ducked low and shoved her dagger into the last one, before she swiftly wrenched it out and walked past him. He definitely hadn't expected that; and apparently, neither had they.
"Let's go." She said sharply, not particularly hurried, but brisk nonetheless.
He followed her hastily, and they exited out the other side of town as if they hadn't just murdered all the guards in the middle of the street.
"There'll be reinforcements coming to relieve them at nightfall, but we'll be long gone by then." She said, conversationally.
This was not the first time she had killed a living person in front of him, but for some reason it felt far more striking than the last time. Maybe because those were bandits before, and they had attacked them first: it was self defense. This was… well, maybe a bit of self defense, but still startling nonetheless. He'd never killed anyone before. He looked down at his hands. Until now. What did it matter, he thought to himself. He would have killed in the arena anyway,
"Where to next?"
Katniss made a noise of deliberation, before she veered sharply to the left. Towards the mountain peaks.
"Bleak Falls Barrow, of course!"
"What?" He gaped. "Didn't we just kill them so we didn't have to go?"
"Yeah," she agreed, amused. "But I want to get that Golden Claw anyway. And to be honest—those Nordic burial sites are full of treasure."
"And dead people." He pointed out.
She shrugged. "Well yes, them too."
He stared at her as if she was crazy. "We need to get money somehow," she harrumphed. "And at this time of year, hunting will be impossible."
Great. Bleak Falls Barrow it is, then.