For the first time in her life, Katniss feels at ease. Not safe. Simply eased. Like a deer resting in a meadow, relaxed in its environment but ready to spring the moment danger arose.
Her legs stretched in front of her, shins crossed and feet comfortable in boots that fit her perfectly. Her belly full and she reveled in the feeling. She stretches outwards, satisfied in the popping of her aching bones. The arena offers her the freedom to hunt her food openly, to carry her bow wherever she pleased.
In those wonderful, albeit short, moments, she feels as though there were no Hunger Games, no person in the woods ready to spring and kill her given the opportune moment. These are the times she craved for, the alternative to terrifying for her to contemplate at all.
At night, when Cato is on guard, she shrinks in her sleeping bag and hopes that if he sees her shaking he would assume it is from the cold, not those brief instants that fear completely consumed her, when she heard screams in her head that hazily resembled her own, and even worse, Prim's.
Now a morning's drizzle lightens to nothing but a sweep of chillness in the air, leaving her not cold bur rather clammy.
Her eyes relax, watching her surroundings but snapping at the sound of his voice.
"We should probably leave this place soon."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. It was good when we had a lead on everybody else. Now we should begin to hunt."
She knows he isn't talking about animals. She buried the wince deep inside of her, keeping her face collected as she drags her bag beside her and does a quick inventory of what she has.
It wouldn't be a lack of supplies that killed either one of them, that was for sure.
They do their best to get rid of any trace of their being in that cave, kicking their fire pit and tossing dirt around the cave floor.
They look at the mess they'd made, satisfied with the image before grabbing their supplies and making their way into the forest.
The forest itself is quiet in the mornings, a light dew covering the grass and birds singing, usually in the distance, but it's otherwise startling to hear any other sound so close to themselves.
Her bag is heavy, the straps digging into her skinny shoulders that only months ago were flesh stretched over feeble bones only accustomed to carrying wooden bows and quivers stocked with sharpened arrows.
The two allies hike up a small ridge, adjusting their bags as needed and occasionally reaching out to the ground to pull themselves up.
They neither speak with each other nor do they offer assistance on the steeper ridges. They both find peace in the silence of the woods, a forest so similar to Katniss's own but so foreign to Cato, who was accustomed to long stretches of stone and very rarely a tree that went past ten feet.
They must only get a mile, if that considering the density of the woods, when they first find trouble.
The sky darkens but there is no sign of further rainfall. Something tells Cato it's for ambiance, to set the Gamemakers' stage just right for the next part of the show. He can almost hear Caesar Flickerman now, his voice echoing in the white room back at the academy from past games, an instructor at the front of the room reminding them the atmosphere meant everything.
He glances at Katniss, her eyes pointed to the sky and fingers curved out slightly, a position he imagines she took in order to sense even the slightest raindrops.
Their feet are grounded to the forest floor as they both listen to the silence, when even the animals have stopped with their morning songs.
Slowly, as though not to anger the sudden density of the woods, they prepare the weapons. He takes his sword, pulling it from its case and slowly putting it in the ready position.
She slides her bow from her shoulders and then notches her arrow, ears keen to her surroundings.
It's quite for a moment more, but then a voice rings out that slices right into the woodland.
"A little early for a hike. Don't you think?"
Katniss gulps, knowing the question was neither for them nor rhetorical. She's right, when the pale blonde of the District One girl's hair suddenly pops beside Jason, or when the dancing of metal against metal, Clove's knives catches up. The other Career, the District One boy, arrives. Katniss is vaguely aware of the absence of the District Four girl, but can hardly focus on this.
Her entire body shakes and she prays that they cannot see this. Still, she feels the blood draining from her face. Her fingers lose feeling and she struggles to hold onto her bow. She points it at Clove, knowing full well that Cato has dibs on Jason.
She can't imagine actually releasing this arrow, this one that will kill another human being. A being who's family is watching her right now. Maybe Clove has a sister?
The thought startles her and she immediately pushes it away. Her heart is now pounding full speed in her chest. Could they hear it from where they stood on the hill?
She dares to take a glance at Cato, not at all surprised by the tenseness of his body, the clenched jaw or the narrowed eyes.
She snaps back to her targets, arrow shaking but ready to lodge itself between Clove's eyes.
The girl smiles, knife spinning in her hands as she licks her lips and watches Katniss intently.
It's only a matter of who will attack first.
Thoughts of the Capitol and the entire country watching slowly fade from Katniss's mind.
Clove throws her knife and the District 12 native hardly dodges the blade. She throws her weight to the side and sees the thin dagger lodged into the ground.
The others charge, four against two. The odds weren't exactly in their favor. Gale's voice whispers in her subconscious and she wonders if those are the last words she will ever hear.
Clove is fast and Katniss releases only one arrow, which hardly slows Clove down but certainly makes Glimmer pause.
The arrow hits into the bark of a tree, a useless hit and before she can reload her bow, Clove's small hands grab her shoulders and drag her to the ground.
The smaller girl practically growls as she throws Katniss down, reaching in her coat and producing another knife, this one almost too large to fit in the girl's tiny hands.
She maintains a good grip though and brings the weapon down, stabbing just beside Katniss who barely dodges it in time.
Far off she hears yelling and the clanking of weapons. She knows it's Jason and Cato but cannot be entirely certain if the District One boy has joined in yet. It's hard to focus on them, though.
Despite her petite figure, Clove certainly has muscle and probably a hundred more knives hidden beneath her jacket.
Katniss has her own knife tucked uselessly in her boot while her bow, equally useless right now, lies just above her head. She is crushing her quiver but doubts the rest of her arrows are in danger in the metal case.
She finally spots Clove's weakness after evading multiple more stab attempts.
As Clove becomes more frustrated, of perhaps more excited, she swings with more force, her entire body going into that one slice of the knife.
Katniss lets her do this one more time and then with all her force, swings her body in the opposite direction. She rolls, not away from the knife, but towards it.
She tries to pin the girls hand but can't do it quickly enough. Instead she pushes onto her shoulder and rolls one more time so. She manages to get some ground as she swings her leg up.
She can't even get into a sitting position before Clove attempts to knock her down again.
They wrestle for an eternity, both their jackets feeling heavier as sweat builds up on their brows.
Katniss searches wildly for her bow, grabbing it when she's able to push Clove away long enough.
She tucks and rolls further from the girl, taking one knee and loading her next arrow with full intent of burying it in the girl's skull.
Clove actually looks frightened for a moment, a sentiment that lightens Katniss's mood significantly, that makes the shaking in her limbs and the tiredness of her courage irrelevant.
There is a loud crash, an explosion that reminds her of the mines in District 12.
An unintentional shriek escapes her when something pricks her neck. She sees the others attacked by the same thing.
Something lays between both assemblies, something that fell from the skies.
More come at them, hoards that buzz and make terrible noises.
People are running in every direction.
She's not even aware of her own running until she suddenly falls, her jaw slamming onto her knees some distance away from the initial fall.
She collapses, arms and legs turning limp. Her entire body shakes uncontrollably.
The bow falls from her palms. She struggles to lift her hands as she hears somebody laughing hysterically behind her. If she didn't know better she would say it was Caesar Flickerman himself.
Her hand is shaking in front of her. She hears the laughing muted by somebody screaming. Her lungs are raw. Is it her screaming?
Bugs crawl all along her hands, coming out of her jacket and dancing on her skin. They bury their way past the scarred skin, sinking into her body and into her very bloodstream.
Her eyes roll back just as the bugs begin to inflate, blowing up in spectacular flashes of light.