Author's Note: I'm sorry this chapter has taken so long, but I have been busy writing a French speech that I have to deliver next week which has taken a lot of my time. Also, I am working on a Glimmer one-shot which I will hopefully publish within the next week!
This chapter is short, I know, but what happens after this chapter is quite fast paced and I didn't want to cut anything in half and ruin the feeling of it. Enjoy chapter sixteen! Not long until the end of the games now!
Chapter sixteen – Calm before the storm
Grey's POV
Cato throws a silent childish tantrum from the time of the announcement until sunset, kicking the charred remains of our camp around with one boot. At least he's smart enough to keep quiet so as not to draw attention to our vulnerable state. All we have is a meager amount of supplies that will barely last through one meal. It goes without saying that we're going to go hungry tonight and save our remaining food for a time when we absolutely need it, and whether or not the rest of us agree, no one dares go against Cato. Compared to the information I have heard about his "fiery temper," Cato seems particularly stable right now. Sometimes I see a fire burn in his eyes that Clove instinctively shies away from, but as Marvel and I hadn't met him until the games we probably have yet to see his full wrath. I make a mental note to stay away when he fights Spens.
Marvel and Clove sit opposite each other cleaning their spears and knives respectively, the two brought together by the need to respect their weapons. If Cato was in a better frame of mind, I have no doubt that he would join them. I can't say I find it very important, I feel just as bad killing with a blood stained knife than I do with a clean one.
I feel my stomach grumble a little once it's dark and I decide it's easier to just go to sleep. In the games once the sun goes down, unless you want to hunt then there is no real point to stay awake. With the feast just a few hours away, why hunt? I'm sure all the other tributes are resting so they will be prepared to fight back, trying to earn their life. How many are left again, 8?
I'm hoping that tomorrow at dawn the careers will kill Spens and then reap the rewards with a big crate of supplies. Maybe they will even have expensive Capitol food. I feel better just thinking about having a full stomach. Marvel pulls out the only sleeping bag that wasn't ruined in the fire and spreads it out so it fits 3 people lying albeit rather close together. He and Clove get settled by lying closer than they are comfortable with on the small piece of material. We didn't have any other choice, the wind was beginning to pick up and it whistled over our shivering bodies.
I padded over to Cato who was dejectedly kicking dirt around, still angry but winding down for the night.
"Go to bed Grey, you need your sleep." I open my mouth to protest but thoughts of the horrors that I had experienced today, being attacked by Spens, the death of Rue… stop me from saying anything. So instead I join the other two careers on the sleeping bag, lying next to Clove with my back against the wind. I lie quietly in the dark, partly afraid of being so out in the open but comforted by the fact that Cato is sitting nearby with his sword in arm's reach. I know that he won't let anything happen to me, but a mixture of the cold and the fear of nightmares plaguing me mean that I toss and turn for his entire guard shift. If Cato notices, he doesn't say anything, but after what must be 3 hours I hear him stretch and rise to wake Marvel. I hear some quiet whispering between them and then they both walk past me.
A few seconds later, Cato lowers himself down on the ground and settles with his chest pressed against my back. His arms slowly snake around me and I lean back against him, sighing as his body heat warms the both of us up.
"I knew it," He whispers slyly in my ear, "Why didn't you just admit you were cold and you needed me to warm you up? You're so stubborn." I smile.
"Just keep telling yourself that, Cato." I hear him laugh quietly at our bantering before tucking his head into my hair. It is much easier to fall asleep this time and there are no bad dreams.
I sleep right through Marvel's watch and by the time I wake up again it's nearing the end of Clove's. Perfect timing on my part because I'll be next to take watch, guarding until sunrise. Cato is breathing heavily into my hair, the tension in his body softened in sleep. I carefully slip out of his arms without waking him, and when he unconsciously senses I've gone he crosses his arms to stay warm.
Clove nods at me when I sit down beside her. She tosses the remainder of what is probably our last packet of dried fruit at me and I gratefully accept it, munching as she recounts what happened during her watch. Apart from a few rustling sounds in the bush, nothing had gone on. Since I'm awake, Clove could easily go back to the warmth between the two male careers but she decides to stay with me for a while instead.
"What do you think will happen tomorrow?" I ask in a whisper, wary of making too much noise that could wake up a tired Cato and Marvel. She shrugs in reply.
"I don't know. Cato's being cocky as always, but I try not to be so sure of everything, things can easily go wrong, right?" I nod and we become enveloped in silence for a while, until I decide to ask the question that everyone seems to be avoiding in some way or another.
"What happens if it ends up as you and Cato as the final two?"
Clove tenses up and I instantly know that I've hit a nerve. I wish I could take it back, but I can see that she's already trying to think up a reply.
"Cato can do this; he can win this whole game. Marvel, you, me, we all know it in the back of my mind, do you really think we have a chance of beating him when he's actually against us?" She's avoiding my question by not directly answering yes or no, but I don't push it. We both know without saying that Cato would kill us in order to win. But his own childhood friend, his training partner, Clove? It seemed particularly inhumane.
"Cato would be able to kill me, we've trained all our lives for this moment and we know that in the end it's the strongest who wins. But you, he actually cares about you. I've seen how he treats you, he goes back for you. And I know he won't go come back for me."
"Clove…" I whisper, "He cares about you too. As much as he tries to hide it behind his sarcastic comments, he's actually more human than he thinks." The dark haired tribute sighs and gets up, wishing me good night and "happy guarding." Before she settles down on the sleeping bag though, she gives me one last comment.
"Just hope it's not you facing him in the final moments. For both of your sakes."
I sit cross legged with a knife in my lap for the remainder of the night, thinking over what Clove said to me. The fact that she basically told me that Cato liked and cared about me has been dwarfed by the realisation that one of us is going to have to die, and it will probably be at the other's hand. If I came down to it, would I be selfish? Wanting to stay alive probably doesn't count as being selfish. Could I kill Cato, if he told me to? Doubt it.
I look over to Cato's sleeping form in the slowly rising dawn light and think about how I could be murdered by the person I thought I trusted. It's a horrible thought, but tributes probably pray that their partner is killed before the final two, just so they aren't the ones to kill them.
At the first crack of dawn, sunrise is skipped and it is instantly mid-morning as the sound of trumpets blast through the arena. Cato, Clove and Marvel are all up in an instant, looking around in shock as the sound continues. By the time the procession finishes, they have picked up their weapons and are ready to go. Clove nods solemnly as she hands me a knife, and then we're ready to go.
Cato leads our little troop the short distance from our makeshift camp to the cornucopia. We have no idea what we are going to come across, some years there is a large table full of food, other times there is nothing and it's purely a way to bring all the tributes together. Arriving at the cornucopia, I stay back a bit while the others begin to charge forward.
In the mouth of the structure there is a table with a lone loaf of bread. It seems a little disappointing, surely the Gamemakers would give us a feast after they set fire to our food? Obviously, the other tributes there have a similar view. A teenage male tribute that I don't recognize stands in front of the table, stamping his foot grumpily.
"A stupid loaf of bread? What is this! ARGH, I wanted Capitol food!" From a few steps in front of me I hear Cato snigger. Clove puts her hand to her hip where a knife is securely attached, ready to remove it and throw as soon as the tribute starts to move. I reach up and softly touch her arm, making her pause.
"Wait…" I whisper, "Something feels weird." The others turn to look at me curiously.
"What do you mean? It's just a Capitol joke, their version of a 'feast.'" Cato says, shrugging at me.
"No. Just… don't go for the bread, we need to kill Spens and then get away to regroup. We'll have to do some hunting." Cato looks like he wants to argue, he wants to win this here and now and take whatever reward he's given, even if it's just a loaf. But Marvel interrupts to say, "Fair enough" and that's that.
"So where is that sadistic bastard?" Cato growls after a few minutes of impatiently waiting. The tribute who was upset about the bread eventually grabs it and makes a run for the forest. Clove makes a move to nab him in the back, but Cato tells her to not waste her knives. He didn't even have a weapon with him, so he's obviously unprotected and stupid. The other two remaining tributes don't make an appearance, but fashionably late Spens slowly walks into the clearing. He always seems to come and go without a fuss, like he disappears into thin air.
"Aww, someone bet you to the food?" He purrs, and I step forward a little, my anger from his murder of Rue coming back again. I don't like his tone. Marvel who is standing beside me, folds his arms menacingly and it does a tiny bit in making me feel calmer. Cato brings out his sword instead and tilts his head slightly to the side, daring Spens to do something.
"Whatever. We have food, not like you." I think to myself that our food won't last more than a meal, but it seems like an inappropriate time to mention that. Spens smirks, like he knows that Cato's lying.
"Don't think over it too much Spens, there's no point knowing about our food when you're dead." Spens sneers and I silently congratulate my ally. Good one Cato.
Then, just like the minutes before Rue's death, time slows down as Cato and Marvel begin to run at Spens with their weapons in their hands. Welcome to the bloodbath.