Chapter Fifteen: The Worst Feeling Ever

We decide to split up. Marvel will be on his own, and Cato and I will hunt together. I'm pretty happy with this arrangement – I can't be with Marvel; I'd end up killing him after five minutes. And even though the kid isn't as bad, he's so… puny. But he's not coming anyway.

Cato seems to be in a chatty mood today, which is weird. He's put on the show of being ruthless so well, but he's talking nonstop. I'm pretty bored, actually, after we walk for a little while without finding anyone. So I join the conversation.

We talk about home.

"What are your parents' talents?" he asks me. Every victor is supposed to have one.

"My dad is an artist. Painting, sculpting, that kind of thing. My mother designs weapons, she's the head of that industry," I reply proudly.

"Weapons?" Cato sounds interested. "Like what?"

I roll my eyes. "We're in the Hunger Games, Cato, and we're also from District Two – I think you know what a weapon is."

He scowls. "I know that, I meant – "

I laugh. "I know what you meant. Um… knives are her favorite. But she's also designed some really cool spears."

"Excellent," he says wickedly. "I'll ask her to design a special one for me when I win."

I decide not to dignify this with a response.

"What do your parents do?" I ask instead.

Cato grimaces. "They're… they're miners."

Surely, we're not live right now. The cameras will be focusing on the other tributes – Lover Boy dying, perhaps, or Fire Girl up a tree. The Capitol won't want District Two's secret to get out.

Well, maybe secret is the wrong word. For the Capitol, anyway. District Two doesn't want anyone to know that we mine in addition to designing fancy clothing for the Capitol – it's something even I try not to think about. But we have so many huge mountains in our district; not mining simply isn't an option.

But we are a Career district, and we don't want to be thought of as low – District Twelve mines coal, remember? We can't be compared to them. So District Two requested that the Capitol not spread the word around that District Two are miners, and since we hold favor with them they generally try to keep us happy.

I don't press the subject. Actually, I feel bad for even asking, even though he did first. District Two is proud of designing clothing for the Capitol but mining is shameful. The only other thing we do, really, is design weaponry, but it's a relatively small business compared to the other two.

Of course, we train Peacekeepers as well, but that really is a secret.

"What did you do in your free time?" he asks. I know free time means when you weren't training, but we can't exactly say that on television.

I shrug. "I never really had a lot of free time. Sometimes I helped my mother design weapons, or watched my dad paint. What about you?"

"I didn't have much free time, either."

"Oh." I search my mind for something else to say. "If you win, what's your talent going to be?"

It seems that Cato has never considered this. "Um… I don't know. I've never really thought about that. I'm not good at anything besides using weapons."

"Me neither," I sigh. "I guess I could just mentor tributes and have that be my talent."

He laughs. "Not likely, with Enobaria around."

I wrinkle my nose. "Good point."

We walk in silence for twenty minutes or so without saying anything. We shouldn't have been talking at all, really, but there was nothing else to do, since we weren't finding any tributes!

"You know what?" he says suddenly.

I raise an eyebrow. "What?"

"Hunting right now is going to be impossible! Some of them will be passed out, sure, but that also means – "

"We won't be able to hear them," I say, realization dawning on me.

Cato nods. "Exactly. That's how tributes normally find each other, right? Because someone makes a noise… or lights a fire?"

I grin at the memory of finding the girl from Eight. "Lighting a fire would be pretty hard to do in your sleep," I admit.

He sighs. "And anyone with any sense at all would have hidden themselves before they passed out…"

"So finding them is going to be almost impossible," I conclude.

"How did we not think of this before?" he groans.

I want to bang my head against the wall. "At least it won't matter whether or not we're quiet, though," I point out. "Talking won't scare them off or anything."

"I guess," Cato mutters.

I've run out of things to say, though. I mean, what else is there? We can only discuss so much about home without it getting awkward. But I guess there's always –

"I wonder if Sparkle Trix is watching this," I say with a grin.

Cato smirks. "Of course she is. Hi, darling escort," he says in a slightly louder voice than usual. I laugh.

"You don't even know if we're on screen right now," I remind him. "And if we are, now you look like an idiot in front of the whole nation."

He rolls his eyes. "Do I care? Besides, I bet we're not live," he adds. "I'm guessing they'll want to focus on the tributes who've been stung badly."

That reminds me of where we are and what we need to be doing. I don't say another word for a couple of hours – I'm trying to think of where everyone could be hiding. Needless to say, I don't come up with anything.

"Let's head back," I say reluctantly when the sky goes dark. "We can get some rest, and then we can hunt all day tomorrow."

"Fine," he grumbles.

By the time we get back, it's nearly pitch dark. The anthem has played, and there were no faces in the sky – a fact that irks me greatly. How is it possible that we've found no one when almost everyone is probably unconscious?

I'm sulking about this as we enter the clearing. Marvel immediately stands up from where he was sitting by the Cornucopia and walks over to us. "Where've you been?" he asks. "I've been back for hours!"

Cato shrugs. "Just hunting. Didn't want to give up that early," he says, looking pointedly at Marvel.

I roll my eyes. "Go to sleep, both of you. I'll – "

"I'll guard," Cato interrupts me. "Please," he says quietly when I open my mouth to argue. "We need you to be alert tomorrow."

Damn him. "Fine," I mutter resentfully, and stalk over to my tent.

I am actually a bit tired, or I would've argued with Cato. Once I lie down, it doesn't take very long to fall asleep.

For once, there's no drama when I wake up. No fire, no tracker jackers, no confusion. It's late morning – how did I sleep that long?

"Why didn't you wake me up earlier?" I demand when I manage to crawl out of my tent.

Cato shrugs. "I figured you'd be able to stay awake longer if you got more sleep. I want to stay in the woods for a long time today, till about this time tomorrow if we can handle that."

"Of course we can," I snap.

He's trying not to smirk at me, I can tell. "Eat something, Clove. Then we'll head out. The rest of us are ready."

"The kid isn't coming, is he?" I ask.

Cato snorts. "Of course not, do you think he'd be any use? No, just you, me, and Marvel. I think we should stick together today."

"Why?" I whine. "I don't want to deal with him today!"

He chuckles, and I glare at him. "This is going to be the day that we actually find someone," he says confidently. "I can tell. Might as well have everyone here."

"We've said that every day," I mutter. Not about having everyone hunt together, just that we'd find someone. But I don't protest.

"Hey, are we leaving, or what?" Marvel calls from the other side of the Cornucopia.

"Soon," Cato snaps. "Clove has to eat breakfast."

I glare at him, but then I walk over to the pile of supplies – dodging where the mines are set up, of course – and grab some dried fruit and a bottle of water.

"I'll eat while we hunt," I say, because I'm impatient to get back to the woods. "Let's go." I'm halfway to the trees when Cato calls out to me.

"Forgetting something?" he says teasingly, holding out my backpack. I sigh and walk back over to him, taking the supplies.

"Thanks," I say unwillingly. "Now can we go?"

The fruit lasts about half an hour before it's gone. Then I have nothing to distract myself from this failure of a hunting trip. I'm beginning to think that we'll never find anyone, that I'll be stuck in this arena forever.

I've made a discovery, too. The worst feeling in the world isn't just one feeling. It's a mix, and one leads to the other. Anticipation leads to confidence, and when you add failure, there's disappointment. I can say first handed that it sucks like nothing else.

I try to make the time pass by quicker – but apparently, counting the seconds that go by is not an efficient way of doing that. Neither is picking at the hole that's formed in my jacket. Then I start to think about people, in the Capitol and District Two.

My dad. I hope he's proud of me. I know he didn't want me to volunteer, but isn't it better this way? When I win, he'll be happy. But I'm sure he's having a hard time watching this. His little girl in the arena…

Enobaria. What's she thinking? I wish I could talk to her, just for a few minutes. Maybe there's something I'm missing about this arena, some clue as to what I need to do to find another tribute – preferably one that's not my ally.

Maio. Has it really been less than a week since I've seen my stylist? It feels like years have passed. Has he designed me any outfits for the Victory Tour? Has he appealed to anyone about letting me become a stylist for the Games? I wish I could see him. I finger the necklace he gave me. Clove Flair, 74th Victor.

Brutus. Is he watching? Of course. Am I living up to his expectations? Is he wishing that we'd trained more, harder? I don't think so. I'll win. Does he know that? He must.

Yoh. He's going to feel like such a failure when I beat his tribute. Enobaria will never let him hear the end of it. I almost laugh out loud at the thought.

Sparkle Trix. Is she pleased that both of her district's tributes have made it to the final ten? I doubt she cares, with her crazy Capitol mind. When I win, she won't even get a promotion, since she's already at the top district.

Basil Shay. Oh, she's jealous of me right now. Very jealous. Angry, too – she'll still be resentful that I won't let Cato win. Although, I can see now why they're friends. Cato's actually a halfway decent person. But he won't win.

Arriah Elloy. I don't really know her, but I was able to recognize her when her name was pulled from the reaping ball. I'm sure she still hates me for volunteering, but… well, she is only fourteen or so. She wouldn't have stood a chance anyway.

My mother. What's she thinking? Is she proud of me? Does she know I'll come home? I hope so. Is she helping Dad get through this? I doubt it, somehow. She just wants me to win. Of course, I will – we're already down to the final ten. There are almost no tributes that are a threat to me. What does she think of my allies? She told me to ally with Cato – does she regret that? Does she wish I would kill Marvel? And what about our decision to spare the kid? And what about Fire Girl? Is she angry that I haven't killed her yet? Probably. But I'll kill her – soon. I'll make my mother proud.

I jump when I hear the anthem playing – wow, have we been hunting for that long already? No faces are in the sky, and I glare at the ground. I refuse to open my mouth, though, because I'll whine. And then guess who I'll sound like? Our beloved, recently murdered ally, Shell. Can't have that.

At least I'm not tired. No, I'm not sleeping again until the Games are over. Definitely not – I don't know how I was stupid enough to do that at all. I guess fatigue clouds judgment sometimes. I speed up, passing my two allies.

"Cato, Clove?" Marvel says after a few minutes. "Maybe we should think about heading back."

I roll my eyes, which are hidden behind the night-vision glasses. "What part of staying out all night did you not understand?"

"You never said that," he mutters angrily.

"She's saying it now," Cato snaps, glaring at Marvel.

"Don't start," I say tiredly, but neither of them seems to hear me.

"Quit acting like the two of you are in charge!" Marvel shouts furiously. "You're not, okay? I have just as much say as you do! You're not the leaders!"

I spin around to face him and slap him across the face. "If I were you, Marvel," I whisper dangerously, "I would shut the hell up." I bring my face close to his, and he flinches. Ha. "The only reason you aren't dead yet is because I'm feeling generous today. I'm giving you the chance to stop talking. Or die."

He glares at me, but doesn't speak. I turn around, satisfied, and keep walking.

After another hour of finding nobody, I come up with a new plan. I fall back to walk beside Cato and force Marvel to walk in front of us.

"Because I don't trust you," I say harshly when he looks as if he's going to protest. Then I turn to my other ally.

"I have an idea," I say quietly.

Cato raises his eyebrows… I think. It's hard to tell with the night-vision glasses. "And that would be…?"

"We head back to camp," I begin. "No, don't interrupt! Hear me out. We head back. We have the kid pretend to fall asleep. We hide in the woods. Someone tries to steal water, or supplies. They don't see us. We catch them."

Cato stares at me for a moment. "That's… a good idea," he says finally.

I grin. "I know."

It takes another two hours to get back to camp, and another ten minutes to get everything set up. But in the end, the kid is "asleep" at the mouth of the Cornucopia and Cato, Marvel, and I are positioned at the edge of the woods.

By this time, the sky is slowly growing lighter. Maybe someone will come, I think desperately. No – I mean, of course someone will come. The question is, when?

We remain hidden for a solid hour before anything happens, and when a tribute finally comes our way, I'm too impatient to make this kill last.

I'm sitting on a branch in a tree when he wanders into the clearing, because I got tired of crouching. I'm glad, though, because it greatly increases the boy from Ten's fear when I jump from the branch and land lightly just a few yards from him.

I shake my head in mock disappointment. "Dear, dear. I expected better from you," I say, pretending to reprimand him. "Wandering into our camp? What were you thinking?"

The answer to that is obvious. He hadn't been thinking... he was just thirsty. I can see it in his eyes – the half-crazed look that shows how dehydrated he really is. He doesn't answer me.

Cato and Marvel emerge from behind their trees to stand beside me. "Oh, good – it's the cripple," sneers Marvel. "Looks like it's not only his foot that's messed up."

"Now, now, be polite, Marvel," I say with a false smile. "Where are your manners? We haven't even introduced ourselves yet." I turn back to the boy, who hasn't spoken or attempted to run. Good – it will make this easier.

"My name is Clove. This is Cato," I say, gesturing to Cato, "and Marvel," pointing at Marvel. "I'm so sorry, about this, but – wait. No, I'm not. Goodbye."

For the first time, I see fear in the boy's eyes – he starts backing away slowly, and then he turns and starts sprinting towards the woods. Maybe limping would be a more accurate description. Either way, he only makes it a few yards before Cato's spear enters his back… at the same time my knife enters his head.

The cannon fires.

"Excellent," Cato smirks. "I was starting to think we'd never find anyone."

I grin. "I know, me too. He was a strange one, though. Didn't ask us to let him go, or anything. He just stood there."

Cato shrugs. "I guess. I don't really care, though. Only nine of us left!"

"Yep," I say, satisfied. "I think we should celebrate with a good… breakfast, is it?"

He laughs. "Early breakfast, but yeah. Kind of hard to keep track, isn't it?"

"It is," I agree, suddenly in a good mood. I walk – carefully – over to the supplies, intending to grab some food, but three gleaming silver parachutes fall from the sky before I'm able to take anything.

I grin and walk back over to Cato and Marvel. We each pick up a parachute. One contains a huge bowl of fresh fruit, the second has several small loaves of bread that are still warm, and the last has four thermoses filled with –

"Hot chocolate!" Cato laughs. I grin at the sight of the dark liquid.

I guess we're supposed to share with the kid, since there's a fourth thermos. So we give him a small share of the fruit and the bread, along with his share of the hot chocolate, and then we sit down and eat. It's nice to have good food after living off of mostly dried fruit for this long.

Clearly, this is a message from our mentors. If we manage to kill more tributes, our lives in the arena can be much more pleasant. If not… well, I'd rather not think about that.

For now, we're doing great.

I'm so sorry I didn't update yesterday! I meant to... and then I didn't have time. :( Anyway, thank you all SO MUCH for all the reviews! It's just shocking when I check my email and I have a bunch of new reviews, or notifications that people have added this story to favorites or story alert.

The next chapter will be up soon... anyone want to guess what's coming? ;)

~What the Quell